Djordjadze’s installations combine constructed and found elements. The materials she uses are drawn mostly from everyday objects, ranging from rigid wood and metal constructions to amorphous papier-mâché, textile and foam objects. Painted glass panels appear as frequently in her works as her metal sculptures, which resemble three-dimensional drawings of space. Her distinctive plaster sculpture paintings are another important body of work—plaster-filled mahogany frames with sketchily painted surfaces. While many of Djordjadze’s objects have the look of furniture, they in fact are non-functional, hybrid objects, somewhere between art and apparent utility. Viewers are confronted with carpets, folding screens, and shelves, but also architectural elements such as functionless canopies, self-built showcases or exhibition displays for showing works by other artists. Her objects and installations investigate the idiosyncrasies of particular exhibition conditions.
The artist exposes the objects she uses to a process of constant change and exploration, of looking and understanding, feeling-out, selection and rejection. Djordjadze’s exhibitions only keep things in place for a limited period of time, suspending them in a transitory relationship to the gallery or space and its architecture. This open-ended method creates a state of uncertainty that gives her work an incomparable freedom, as well as a persistent air of uncertainty.
The resulting installations are multi-layered spaces that contain numerous echoes and memories of other places, bringing together a multitude of temporal planes and layers of perception. Djordjadze’s aesthetic vocabulary oscillates nimbly between minimalism, architectural history and conceptual art. It draws on aspects of art by the Georgian avant-garde of the 1920s and discovers an experimental space somewhere between Le Corbusier and Donald Judd. The art-historical echoes are never explicit, however. Instead, viewers might get the impression that the diaphanous memories of other spaces, and other eras, are overlapping with the immediate experience of the exhibition space.
Djordjadze’s installations radically question the notion of the “white cube” as a supposedly value-neutral exhibition space and give viewers the feeling of having entered the artwork itself. The works are ambiguous interiors that do not operate according to the usual rules and laws of interiors, depending instead on a subtle dissection of how we perceive space. Djordjadze manages to cross nothing less than a liminal threshold in viewers’ spatial perception. Her installations sometimes resemble sketches for an archaeology of inner landscapes: sketches of memories, desires and feelings made spatial.