The Liminal Space between Animality and Society: An Interview with Andro Eradze

Andro Eradze (b. 1993, Tbilisi) is a visual artist working with video, photography and installation. Known for his distinctive posthuman storytelling, in his body of work, Eradze explores the impact of humans on nature and the interconnectedness of all living things. He has taken part in several international group exhibitions and screenings including ‘The Milk of Dreams’, curated by Cecilia Alemani, at the 59^th Venice Biennale (IT) and The New Museum Screen Series (New York, USA) amongst others. In the following conversation, Eradze discusses his art practice and new work for the 14^th Kaunas Biennial.

Justė Litinskaitė: The traces humans leave in nature and interspecies relations are central themes in your practice. How did you first become interested in these subjects?

Andro Eradze: I can’t say how they first appeared in my work but I can remember that in the early stages of my practice, I was interested in observing abandoned and dysfunctional spaces. I was trying to activate these locations, giving them certain meanings and personifying them.

At this point, I find it appealing if work holds a conditional quality, even when the material is documentary or rooted in facts. I believe this immunises the piece from being read in various ways, keeping it open. I use animism to enliven the stillness of whatever is in front of me and rely on the imaginative and virtual dimensions of these things by trying to give them space to breathe.

In addition to this, I’m interested in the ideas of social constructs and ways of living, for example, in how we intersect or coexist with other species and inhabitants inside and outside the context of the urban landscape. With my work, I try to render the iconography of animality and vegetation in the form of a fable, serving as something that is misleading to the image but becomes its core element. The idea of otherness and togetherness between various entities explored through notions such as sharing and care also plays an important role in my work.

In the end, I can say that I’m interested in the liminal space between animality and society from an anthropomorphic standpoint and how these qualities intersect.

JL: Humans never feature your work yet one can always feel their looming presence. Why is that? Is it a deliberate choice?

AE: It’s true, human figures are not usually present in my work, however, I guess you can still trace them in this absence. In my practice, I leave room for the viewer to finalise the piece with their own reading. My work often shows fragments of an individual’s or a community’s presence through a simple gesture or in an encrypted manner that is not pushed to the surface. In this way, I believe what is not shown and hidden from the screen or in the image is the most decisive part of the work. In Bressonian cinema, the gaps between sequences are the tools for storytelling and I strongly share this principle in my practice.

JL: Your work is often presented as ecologically driven with posthuman considerations. What’s your take on this?

AE: As for ecologically-driven works, I believe awareness of this subject matter takes a central role in growing with and thinking about the future. However, when it comes to artistic expression and manipulation, I remain uncertain about how these works resonate with the audience or whether they can effectively deliver their intended message. My work has occasionally been labelled as an ecological commentary on the climate crisis and while there might be some truth to it, I must say that this isn’t a conscious decision on my part. If ecological themes are present in my works, they emerge without premeditated intentions. If the audience sees this subject in my practice, I feel happy about it but I recognise that the notion of ecology today is considerably more complex, as are the ways we should speak about it.

When it comes to posthumanism, I think it is a tool for artists to create a form of storytelling that goes beyond conventional narratives and deals with ways of seeing from a non-human perspective. Posthumanism is interesting to me for many reasons; I like how it deals with perceptions, imagination, mysticism, as well as actual spaces or architecture in a wider sense. It holds an uncanny and sublime quality in this world while also adding more layers on top that are unreal variations of possible scenarios in which we all participate. I see posthumanism as a poetic way of expressing not only the ongoing crisis but also the fragility and diversity of our inner worlds.

JL: What’s your personal relationship with nature? Do you like to spend your leisure time in nature?

AE: That’s a hard question. I can say yes and no at the same time. I do love to find myself in nature, with its wild and enigmatic aspects. When walking in the woods, I’m driven by the feeling of having gone back in time; it almost feels like I’m connected to something before me and no time has passed at all. I link this feeling with dreaming. Dreams seem to possess this timeless quality too, bridging us to those who came before. We can connect to them through dreaming and spending time in nature. I often use dream logic in my works, especially when it comes to vegetation or animality.

At the same time, I am social and love to connect with people. I can emphatically say I’m a city person. I like to observe the urban landscape and realise I’m part of it.  I see myself in both places simultaneously and I guess that could be a central source of inspiration for me.

JL: What’s your modus operandi? Do you start with research, observations, imaginaries, literature and so on? What inspires you?

AE: It is something undefinable for me; it could be everything you mentioned, just a spark from seeing a scene in the street or a vivid memory of something. It is always hard to specify the source of inspiration.

I’m a cinema person so watching a film could impact me, same with reading a book or poetry. I start researching and observing after I already have an idea. I always spend a lot of time with the subject matter to dig deep and examine various perspectives on it. I can’t say my practice is research-based but it’s composed of different stages, from the excitement of the idea to researching it. Yet, the most valuable part is working in the studio, the routine and intimacy of it.

JL: When it comes to exhibitions, your works are usually very interestingly staged. What’s your approach to exhibition-making?

AE: For me, the only possibility for work to be finalised or in other words, to happen, is at the exhibition. It has to become activated in the context of a space. I like when the exhibition feels like a staged, manipulated space that is deliberately constructed for the viewers. It depends on what I’m working on at that time. For example, in ‘Raised in the Dust’, I had the impression that the film did not require much interaction and assistance so I made a simple minimalistic intervention in the space. In contrast, with the video work ‘Night Vision, Limited Access’, I felt the enclosed quality of the work had to be accompanied by an installation that would push the same subject matter through different elements. I presented the work with a metal fence that divided the room into two sides and one side of the space was inaccessible for the viewers. This way, the video work and the installation had an interesting interplay. I want to say it depends on what’s in front of me and what my intention is at the time of making but in all the given circumstances, thinking about the final installation is an integral aspect of my process.

JL: Your video works usually have distinctive and otherworldly soundtracks. Do you work on soundtracks yourself?

AE: I see a score as one of the leading elements that helps to establish an exact mood in the moving image and, therefore, accomplish the work. Sometimes, I collaborate with a sound engineer and if I already have something in mind, we try to develop and enrich it in the studio. Otherwise, I’m constantly searching for and listening to music or online sound libraries and if I find a feeling that relates to what I do, I make a sample or a short excerpt and try to build something new on top of it.

JL: What are you preparing for the 14^th Kaunas Biennial?

AE: I’m working on a new five-minute video work titled ‘At the Same Time’, commissioned by the Kaunas Biennial, which will be shown at the historic Kaunas Central Post Office. The piece explores ideas of friendship and ownership, questioning various power dynamics between entities. Depicted in the video are stray dogs living in a city and I try to think about these dogs both independently and in relation to society, reflecting on the burned bridges of companionship. The work is filmed from the perspective of a camera in a car that is driving through the territory of dogs while provoking them to follow. They bark furiously at the intruder, which is the camera and/or the viewer. It is a projection of domination, vulnerability, fragility and the menacing determination to defend what they consider theirs. The film questions belonging and the instinctive desire for claiming, reclaiming and defending territory. The camera becomes an outsider, a stranger in this realm of ‘otherness’, a foreign object that disrupts the delicate instability and provokes the dogs to action. In this way, the film highlights the tension between these two entities sharing the same urban landscape. It emphasises the importance of respecting and understanding the marked territories of the city’s inhabitants while departing from the physicality of actual territories and into more abstract notions.