Nino Memanishvili is a contemporary multimedia artist and photographer whose practice explores the psychological and emotional charge of space, absence and transformation. Working through photography and moving image, she investigates internal states, existential thresholds and the fragile relationship between human presence and the structures we leave behind.
Her photographic series Abandoned reflects this ongoing enquiry, focusing on derelict and brutalist architectural spaces as more than sites of physical decay. Through stark black-and-white contrasts, hard geometric forms and a quietly charged visual language, Memanishvili transforms forgotten buildings into psychological landscapes. These spaces become vessels for isolation, suspension and memory, revealing the tension between human design, structural disconnection and the passage of time.
In this interview with The FLUX Review, Memanishvili discusses the philosophical and emotional foundations of her work, her interest in abandoned architecture, and the ways photography can move beyond documentation to create a shared space for reflection.
Are you self-taught, or did you undertake formal artistic training?
I approach my creative practice through a hybrid lens. While my technical skills in photography and multimedia are largely self-developed, driven by continuous personal experimentation, my conceptual and narrative foundation is deeply shaped by my formal academic background. This academic immersion provides me with the theoretical frameworks necessary to analyse structural transformations and human behaviour, which I then translate into visual art.
How would you define your visual language or conceptual approach?
My visual language is rooted in stark contrast, structural minimalism, and geometric precision. I primarily utilise black-and-white photography to strip away immediate temporal context and focus purely on form, light, and shadow. Conceptually, my approach is an interrogation of isolation and human absence. I treat physical environments not just as locations, but as extensions of internal psychological states and existential friction.
Can you describe your creative process from conception to completion?
My process always begins with a conceptual inquiry or a specific emotional threshold I wish to explore. This is followed by scouting specific spaces – often derelict, brutalist, or unfinished structures – where the architecture itself speaks to a state of permanent transition. Once on site, I wait for natural light to cut through the darkness, creating sharp, aggressive linear perspectives. The final stage involves precise digital editing to enhance the atmospheric textures and contrasts, ensuring each frame functions as a silent, powerful monument to frozen time.
Does narrative, symbolism, or storytelling play a role within your work?
Yes, but it is a narrative defined by ellipsis and omission rather than a linear plot. The storytelling in my work exists in the heavy atmosphere of what is missing – the human absence. Concrete pillars, crumbling bricks, and encroaching nature serve as deep symbols of endurance, decay, and the inevitable passage of time. It is a visual invitation for the viewer to step into the empty frame and complete the narrative with their own introspection.
Which artists have most influenced you historically or contemporarily and why?
I am profoundly influenced by masters of architectural photography and minimalist cinema who understand how to capture the psychological weight of a space. Creators who utilise high-contrast shadows and strict geometry to evoke a sense of displacement or structural memory have greatly shaped how I view framing. I appreciate art that does not shield the viewer from raw realities but instead transforms isolation into a shared, profound space of contemplation.
What personal, cultural, or environmental influences shape your practice?
My practice is deeply influenced by the changing landscapes around me and the subtle friction between historical memory and modern transformation. Living and working in environments where older architectural layers coexist with contemporary decay makes me acutely aware of spaces caught in transition. This atmosphere of suspension directly inspires my focus on forgotten or abandoned spaces.
Where is your studio based, and how does the space inform your creativity?
I am based in Tbilisi, Georgia, but my true creative space is the open environment and the raw architectural sites I explore. The contrasting textures of the city and its surrounding regions, where brutalist concrete meets shifting natural landscapes provide a constant source of inspiration. The specific geographic and atmospheric quality of these spaces directly dictates the mood and geometric composition of my series.
Do you have any rituals or rhythms that anchor your studio practice?
My main ritual is the act of solitary exploration and waiting. I spent hours in a space before ever taking a photograph, just observing how the shadows shift and how the ambient sounds bounce off the concrete walls. This process of slowing down and allowing myself to feel the weight of isolation in a space is essential. It anchors my mind and ensures that when I finally capture an image, it comes from a place of deep, honest reflection.
What bodies of work or projects are you currently developing?
Right now, I find myself in a vital, transitional period of artistic exploration and research. Rather than focusing on a single, finished project, I am actively investigating how different mediums can cross paths.
Where can collectors encounter or acquire your work?
Collectors can currently encounter my work through my digital portfolio and curated online platforms. My upcoming projects and selected visual series are regularly shared via my creative networks, and I am actively expanding my outreach to international gallery spaces and art editions for future physical exhibitions and acquisitions.
For more information visit https://www.ninomema.tumblr.com
