Tata Tavdishvili is an actress, stage director, lecturer and performer from Georgia. She creates independent video performances, which she considers to be the best way to express her creative processed and aesthetics. Her professional experience is diverse, she works with various directors, as an actress, member of the jury of several student international theater festivals, she is a lecturer in *Acting and stage movement* at Shota Rustaveli theatre and film Georgia state university, Tbilisi state conservatory and Iliauni, also conducts workshops at various theater universities around the world, such as Rose Bruford College, (London, United Kingdom), Theatre Arts studio founded by Yoram Lowenstein (Tel Aviv, Israel), National Academy of Dance (Rome, Italy) HB Studio (New York) and etc.
If you were to paint a scene from your earliest childhood memory, what would it depict, and why is it significant to you?
This one shot stands as the most special, mystical, and unforgettable memory of my childhood. For years, my parents and I thought it might have been a figment of my imagination, though I was certain of what I had seen. It wasn’t until many years later, when I returned to that very place, that my memory was confirmed.
I was around three years old, during my baptism, when I vividly recall seeing peacocks in the courtyard of the monastery, wandering gracefully over the newly grown green grass. The colors, the movement—these elements formed my earliest conscious experience of aesthetics. It was as if the world’s beauty had unveiled itself to me for the first time, stirring something profound within.
The vibrant color palette, paired with the dynamic, weightless movement of the peacocks, left a lasting impression. Perhaps, without realizing it at the time, this was the moment a deep question surfaced within me: Is it the beauty of freedom, or the freedom of beauty that captivates us?
What draws me in, what makes me think, what makes me feel? Looking back, I believe that memory may have marked the beginning of my creative journey. It was the point where I began searching for meaning in seemingly synonymous events, trying to understand how I perceive the world and what I value within it.
My creative path has always been a way to explore and answer these buried, subconscious questions—questions that seem to resonate at the very core of who I am.
If you could revisit one specific moment from your childhood, which moment would it be?
Throughout my life, I've met countless people and made many friends. Even before this story begins, I had friendships from kindergarten and school. But this was different—this was the first time we made a conscious choice to be friends with each other. Looking back, the years have proven that it was the right choice, but what fascinates me is understanding why we made it. What drew us together? What did we see in each other that made us decide to create space for one another in our lives?
Often, connections form beyond our control—kindred spirits find each other with little need for explanation, as if they naturally belong together. That’s why I didn’t overthink our friendship; from the very first moment, I just accepted it as something fundamental, as though it had always been meant to be. Still, I sometimes wonder what it would be like to go back in time and watch that moment unfold, to be an outside observer witnessing one of the most important turning points of my life—the moment when I chose my companion for the journey ahead.
Although we both remember the events of that day vividly, I long to relive the feeling of that pure, unguarded innocence when we first became friends. The kind of naivety that is rare and fleeting, but beautiful in its simplicity.
Reflecting on your childhood, what smells, sounds, or textures evoke the strongest memories for you? How do these sensory experiences influence your creative process?
For me, smell is the most powerful trigger, an unmistakable identifier of memories and experiences. What I love most is the scent of moisture in the West part of Georgia cause by its high humidity, which instantly transports me to the best summer days of my childhood, evoking feelings of joy and boundless freedom. That essence, like the flurry of free-spirited emotions, has followed me throughout my life, accompanying me on travels across every part of Georgia.
Interestingly, it’s not a single scent that fuels my creativity, but rather the raw energy and sense of liberation those associations bring. It’s something I’ve absorbed at a cellular level—a deep connection to the feeling of freedom tied to those memories.
This sensation is one of the most intense I’ve ever known, where love, freedom, and grace intertwine, born in specific places yet not bound to them. It’s constantly evolving, always renewing. Like a never-ending adventure, I gather these emotions wherever I go—through scents, people, faces, and the textures of life. These fragments, like pieces of a puzzle, offer me emotional fulfillment and inspiration when I need it most in my creative process.
Reflecting on your childhood in your hometown, which specific moment or memory stands out to you the most, and how does it inspire your artistic expression today?
At some point, I thought it was just a game, but looking back, I realize it was a formative moment where I was learning to see my own fictional stories from a new perspective—where everything had to be preserved with absolute precision. At first glance, it may seem like a typical childhood experience—staging plays in the yard with friends, finding refuge in imagination. But now, as a director by profession, I see it differently. It was never just fun for me. I remember being meticulous about every detail: the costumes, the characters, the rehearsals. I often recreated scenes from programs, films, and plays with a level of focus that, even then, felt like something more than play.
One particular memory stands out, from one of those childhood "filming" episodes. We were deep in one of our games, and I urgently needed a camera—something to mimic the feeling of capturing the moment. I searched the house but couldn't find one. Desperate for a solution, I stumbled upon an old clay piggy bank with a round, burnt bottom. It had been kept as a memento from my mother’s childhood. Looking through the hole for coins, I remember thinking how perfectly round each shot was framed —it allowed me to continue without breaking the flow, and that was all that mattered.
The joy I felt in solving that problem on the spot, improvising with what I had, still resonates with me today. The children were waiting for me in the yard, and I couldn’t let the process stop. Even then, I understood the importance of keeping things moving, of never losing momentum, something I carry with me in my work to this day.
Imagine your hometown as a color palette. What hues dominate the landscape, architecture, and overall ambiance, and how do they influence your artistic choices?
Despite the architectural transformations in Tbilisi today, in my mind, its palette remains a blend of brick, green, and brown, interwoven with deep, rusted tones that seem to echo from within.
In front of polished cobblestone streets, cozy houses built with old bricks stand hidden among tall trees, their leaves as high as the rooftops. These homes are divided by gates and doors painted in different shades, each adding to the quiet charm of the neighborhood.
What captivates me about this city is not so much the immediate sensory experience or the aesthetic thirst that often fuels the creative process. Instead, it’s the imagination—the curiosity about what might be happening behind these windows or what took place on these streets decades ago. As I walk, I find myself creating stories about these hidden lives, drawing a parallel with my own creative journey.
For me, it's not just about presenting a complete picture, but offering a bouquet of emotions from which the viewer can pick their own colors. The variety allows them to create their own unique palette, one that resonates with their personal taste and sensibilities.
If your hometown were a character in a fantastical world, what magical powers or abilities would it possess?
For me, the eclecticism of Tbilisi feels like a superpower—one that allows for time travel. Each neighborhood presents a new microclimate, a shift in people, architecture, streets, and even a radical change in quality of life and mentality. It’s as if the city is an endless corridor, with a unique world hidden behind every door.
If you could collaborate with any artist, living or dead, who would it be and why?
It’s a tough question, as I have many such aspirations, but if I had to choose, I would love to collaborate with Kote Marjanishvili. His vision, artistic expression, quest for meaning, courage, and creative freedom, especially during those eras, are deeply impressive and inspiring to me.
P.s But actually, I am a very lucky person, because I have a person by my side with whom I spread my wings to all my creative fantasies. Tato Geliashvili is my favorite artist in real life with whom I work, and I would like it to continue like this forever.
Imagine your art as a recipe. What ingredients would it have, and what would the final dish taste like?
Endurance, willpower, hard work, the ability to listen, self-irony, trust, and self-confidence. All these qualities shape an experience that resonates with emotional depth. They transfer that emotion to the audience, leaving them with lingering thoughts and a heightened sense of self-awareness.
If your art could travel through time, where would it go?
Nowhere. What I feel in this moment is that every act of creation is shaped by the future, yet rooted in past experiences, deeply embedded at the genetic level. By synthesizing these elements, the creative process unfolds in the present. For me, theater is the precise description of the present time within all arts that exist. That's why I believe my creative state is best defined by being fully here, in the now.
If your art could change one thing about the world, what would it be?
Your thinking defines you. If there's one thing I hope to achieve with my work, it’s to inspire people toward self-determination, to help them accept and love themselves fully. Only by understanding and embracing who you truly are can help you find self-sufficiency—and with that, a sense of inner peace.
If your art was translated into a scent, what would it smell like?
The smell of spring rain-soaked earth and grass.
Imagine your art came to life as a character in a story. Describe its personality and what adventures it would embark on.
An esoteric individual, one whose essence is often misunderstood yet whose energy is felt by all. His journey would likely involve exploring the mystical realm and uncovering hidden knowledge, where events transcend the physical and he seeks to decipher the enigmatic situations in reality rich with symbolic clues.
