As I approach my 30th birthday, I find myself grappling with profound questions about the meaning and purpose of life. Milestones like this often invite reflection, stirring a mix of introspection, nostalgia, and existential inquiry. I recall a vivid memory from my school years, where my art teacher once compared a giraffe to self-description—a symbol of perspective and identity. While I’ve yet to find this specific connection in literature, I’ve come to realize that the symbols we encounter in life, whether through dreams, art, or personal experiences, are projections of our inner worlds. They are fragments of meaning that we assign, consciously or unconsciously, to navigate the complexities of existence.This photo series is an exploration of such symbols and metaphors. It captures the crises and tensions that define our lives—moments of struggle, transformation, and awakening.

Lomisoba is a centuries-old Georgian festival where devotion, tradition, and controversy intertwine. Every year, pilgrims ascend the rugged path to Lomisa Church, a sacred site perched high in the mountains. They come seeking blessings, protection, and healing—carrying sheep for sacrifice, just as their ancestors did. The ritual, rooted in both pagan and Christian traditions, is a powerful expression of faith and continuity. Yet, it also stirs deep ambivalence. The rawness of animal sacrifice clashes with modern sensibilities, igniting debates between cultural preservation and ethical concerns. For some, it's a solemn act of gratitude; for others, an unsettling relic of the past. Amid the prayers and the scent of burning candles, Lomisoba is a paradox—both sacred and brutal, a testament to Georgia’s rich heritage and the uneasy dialogue between tradition and change.

This photo series explores the emotional landscape of Georgia’s ongoing protests, focusing on the collective spirit of resistance amid uncertainty. The images weave together moments of braveness, ambivalence, and hope, portraying a movement that is as much about solidarity as it is about struggle.

As a child, my worst nightmare was that other planets – whether celestial or other, metaphorical bodies – were too close to me. I could almost feel their presence pressing down against my own body. These pictures are highly personal – in the sense that they show the process of my inner feelings – as well as highly detached. In my experimentation with distance and landscape, I try to conjure feelings of being far from and too close to things at the same time. One day, whilst in a state of dramatic detachment from reality that is altogether not too uncommon to me, I decided to visit a place that was still, to me, unexplored. To visit it, then to expose it. Vashlovani landscapes have otherworldly appearance and seem to be alien planet right here on my own Earth. Planets can hardly get much closer!

For Ukraine No description available, photographer condemns Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine.

I’ve realized that self-reflection doesn’t always need to be a lonely, internalized process. While it is something intimate to strive to understand myself better, I have found that I can see pieces of myself all around me. They are in my friends and my environment, in the unusual and the everyday. I’ve been able to reconcile my thoughts about my own identity with the things which surround me. As an anhedonia sufferer since 2016, pleasure has often eluded me and barriers have risen in my way. My friends have played a key part in the process of overcoming these obstacles. The perspectives I capture remind me of the new perspectives I’ve gained from those close to me. I’ve taken images that show intimacy and objectivity—a reflection of the lens through which I’ve looked critically at myself and eventually made peace with who I am. This series is an exploration of the influences in my life and the person they have made me. It’s a journey I’m still on, and one I’m excited to continue.

I’ve realized that self-reflection doesn’t always need to be a lonely, internalized process. While it is something intimate to strive to understand myself better, I have found that I can see pieces of myself all around me. They are in my friends and my environment, in the unusual and the everyday. I’ve been able to reconcile my thoughts about my own identity with the things which surround me. As an anhedonia sufferer since 2016, pleasure has often eluded me and barriers have risen in my way. My friends have played a key part in the process of overcoming these obstacles. The perspectives I capture remind me of the new perspectives I’ve gained from those close to me. I’ve taken images that show intimacy and objectivity—a reflection of the lens through which I’ve looked critically at myself and eventually made peace with who I am. This series is an exploration of the influences in my life and the person they have made me. It’s a journey I’m still on, and one I’m excited to continue.

As a child, my worst nightmare was that other planets – whether celestial or other, metaphorical bodies – were too close to me. I could almost feel their presence pressing down against my own body. These pictures are highly personal – in the sense that they show the process of my inner feelings – as well as highly detached. In my experimentation with distance and landscape, I try to conjure feelings of being far from and too close to things at the same time. One day, whilst in a state of dramatic detachment from reality that is altogether not too uncommon to me, I decided to visit a place that was still, to me, unexplored. To visit it, then to expose it. Vashlovani landscapes have otherworldly appearance and seem to be alien planet right here on my own Earth. Planets can hardly get much closer!

For Ukraine No description available, photographer condemns Russia's invasion of Ukraine.