Sopo Kashakashvili

Still image from "Otherhood Act I" (2024)

Islands Project (IP): Thank you for joining us, Sopo. You have been based in Frankfurt since 2018. How did your relocation from Georgia to Germany occur?

Sopo Kashakashvili (SK): While attending high school in Tbilisi, we started thinking about where to go after graduation. Many of my friends were planning to apply to colleges in the U.S. and I decided to do the same. At that time, everyone was obsessed with the "West". However, I did not receive enough financial aid. They did mention, though, that I could apply to their affiliated school in Berlin. Overall, I just wanted to leave Georgia. I was accepted to Bard College Berlin on a full scholarship, which was my first step out of Georgia.

IP: Did you major in art there?

SK: I earned a bachelor's degree in Humanities, Arts, and Social Thought. My studies were much broader than just art. Towards the end, I seriously wanted to start my career professionally. My supervisor suggested that I pursue further studies in art. I didn’t like the idea at first, because I thought I just got out of one institution. But, in the end, I applied to art schools and came to study at Städelschule in Frankfurt in 2018. I have been here ever since, even after graduating in 2024.

IP: The artists who participated in this project are from Asia, the Middle East, Africa, and Latin America. For many of them, migrating to Germany means moving to the Western world, which means there is a significant cultural difference between Germany and their countries of origin. How did you experience the cultural differences when you moved to Germany? Georgians are uniquely positioned to discuss this topic, as the country is located partially in Eastern Europe. One could argue that it is part of Europe, yet it obviously has a distinctive culture that differs from that of the Western world.

SK: When I visit Tbilisi, my family and friends tease me, saying the European migrant has come to visit. In other words, they don’t see themselves as Europeans. In an attempt to decolonize themselves from the former Soviet Union, many Georgians support joining the EU. However, I think it would be a different kind of colonization. In any case, I think Georgian culture is distinctly different from Western Europe. The term "Caucasian" was coined by a German anthropologist named Johann Blumenbach after the Caucasus Mountains, where Georgia is partly situated. The term gives the impression that the people in that area have European ancestry, but we don't represent Europe or Asia; it's a strange geographical blend.

IP: When you came to Germany, did you bond with people from neighboring countries?

SK: Türkiye is our neighbor. We share the Black Sea, and we have a lot in common. Even with Iran, I think we have similar cultures. For example, we both have a dark sense of humor. Bordering countries are not just neighbors; they are part of our history and part of who we are. Of course, I naturally connect with people and places that are especially aware of Russian colonization. Georgia has so many ethnic groups, and overall, we are a blend of many ethnicities. It's because of the Soviet Union that we forgot who we are and re-tell history in so many different ways. I think our societies have experienced so many wars, invasions, occupations, and burials of loved ones that a sense of humor in the face of hardship is noticeable. We sing and dance, and even in our protests, there is joy and humor that cannot be explained. Honestly, it’s impossible to translate jokes. I would say that we mock each other out of love, even during times of crisis. One example that made my dear friend Raha Deghani and me laugh before was the superstition that when your left hand is itchy, money is coming your way. So, we itch our left hand, kiss it, and rub the same hand on our head. Surprisingly, the gestures are identical in Iran and Georgia.

IP: Let's go back to the story of your life in Frankfurt. You moved there to study art and met your current partner, Larry Bonćhaka, at the same time.

SK: Yes, and in Frankfurt, I also gave birth to our son, Dzala. I had some difficulties during the pregnancy and felt insecure about how I would continue my practice, as I thought taking care of a child would consume much of my time and energy in the years to come. In 2022, after I gave birth to my son, I intentionally called an old friend, Donghee Nam, to meet up and talk about how she started her journey into motherhood. That was a turning point. She is an artist and mother who moved from South Korea to Frankfurt and gave birth here. After that, I started interviewing other migrant mothers in Frankfurt, including a Georgian mother.

IP: How did your conversation with Nam go? What did the other immigrant mothers share?

SK: The conversation with Nam was calm and fun. I enjoyed hearing about the different processes of working while becoming a mother. What stayed with me was the "routine board" she made. Sometimes, in her to-do list, she wrote "breathe." Overall, it was an inspiring visit to Donghee Nam’s studio at the Frankfurter atelier, while I was still in the process of becoming a new version of myself. The process of talking to other mothers was what gave me guidance and healing at that time. Now, it's becoming something else: an archive, a living organism, a manifesto, a performance, and so on. My midwife, a friend, a friend's mother, and others said: "I know someone who might be interested in an interview," and one person always led me to another. Everyone shares stories of their struggles, resistance, cultural differences, and adaptability in Europe, not to mention the bureaucratic hell. Since some of our "identities" have expiration dates here, visa topics and residence have been unavoidable. I am now realizing that sharing and exchanging information is always helpful. I believe in transparent communities, but ultimately, your story is yours alone. "Otherhood" is very special to me. Various histories intersect and people connect. There, it becomes one big archive where we share our collective history. Although it's not a series, I always refer to the work as "Otherhood." It is an ongoing project with several acts, and it is planned to be transformed into a performance piece. The topics and exploration of care, labor, and migration are endless, and one that always stays and is relatable for me is support based on national identity, as well as for those who have childhood friends or family nearby, which is a game changer. So, differences in privilege were always a topic of conversation. After conducting the interviews beginning from late 2022, the work naturally evolved into an installation called "Otherhood Act I”, which was presented at Städelschule's annual Rundgang exhibition in early 2024. AI voice cloning tools transformed the interviews into American and British English, which were then played through audio speakers in a small space surrounded by red velvet fabric. 

IP: After that, “Otherhood” developed further. Could you tell us more about it?

SK: I presented “Otherhood Act II” as a musical installation with a self-made audio system at the graduation show in mid 2024, in collaboration with Larry Bonćhaka and MEGBORNA, who brilliantly turned the interviews into beats and sound bites and beautiful 3D animation piece by Kimathi Agbanu. This was followed by “Otherhood Act III” presented in mid 2024 at the "Lost Weekend Meets Young Art" exhibition space in Munich, curated by Jaemin Lee. It was a two-person exhibition with the artist Paula Niño, who dealt with similar topics from a different perspective. I took various German newspapers, mostly headlines, and boldly wrote different quotes from the interviews over the newspapers in red. An audio piece from “Otherhood Act II” was hidden in a small bird cage surrounded by spiders. Paula and I talked about the daily use of things in Germany and the materials that surround us. Inspired by childhood memories of finding toys in cereal boxes, Paula worked with cornflake boxes. She hid a German passport borrowed from a friend in one of the boxes. The combination of cornflakes, coffee and German newspapers was the perfect blend for two migrants to reclaim and intervene. After that, I presented “Otherhood Act IV” at the Neuer Kunstverein Gießen in late 2024, at the invitation of the two wonderful curators Dalwin Kryeziu and Lena Fries. I continued my exploration with newspapers, turning the Kunstverein space, which was formerly a functional kiosk, into another kiosk with self-made newspapers dedicated to “Otherhood Act IV”, as well as tote bags and T-shirts bearing quotes from interviewees. The space functioned as a kiosk, and I sometimes made coffee for visitors.

IP: It seems that your interest in migration can even be observed in your earlier works. For example, the 2018 video piece "The Person" is a compilation of audio conversations with women of immigrant backgrounds living in Germany. How did it come about?

SK: I left "home" at the age of 19, and before that, I moved around a lot, attending different schools and often changing “homes”. At one point, I studied at an international school in Georgia, where my father wanted me to attend. I had to speak English there, which was a total clash for me between who I am and what I am. Georgian and Russian were spoken at home, but I was forced to take tests in English just to pass school. I was raised in a matriarchal household with different generations of women, and my father was not in the picture; he lived separately. At that time, this was not socially accepted, so I was always "that kid." In other words, nobody could figure me out or how my family functioned. Therefore, the idea of belonging has been a question for me for as long as I can remember, and it is a theme that I explore in my work. I am more aware of it now, of course, but when I look at my earlier works from 10 years ago, it all makes sense. I took a seminar at Bard College Berlin with artists Alex Martines Roe and Assaf Gruber. They asked the class to create work reflecting on the question, "What does living in Berlin mean to us?" At the time, I discovered the poetry of May Ayim and immediately fell in love with her work. All of her poems were written not from her perspective, but rather how she was perceived in Germany: the comments people made and her general reflections on racism, exotification, and "othering." I asked friends born in Germany but raised by migrant parents to read May Ayim's poem "Afro-Deutsch" and comment on it. I recorded their reflections and turned them into a video titled "The Person." I usually spend hours or even full days with each individual while working, so a lot comes out. We eat together and sometimes make music. In this case, everyone made drawings that became part of the video work. That's how my collaborations and ideas for my next works begin.

IP: In 2025, you presented a solo exhibition titled "I HAVE NO WORDS" at an art space in Frankfurt, Alte Schmelze. Also that year, you presented a duo exhibition as La Caoba, a collective consisting of you and Larry, at Frankfurter Kunstverein. How do you view this development? Would it be accurate to say that your focus has shifted to community through these exhibitions?

SK: I have always been interested in the concept of "community," not through words, but through actions. I am a so-called "post-Soviet kid." My first experience of living inside a community was with our families, friends and neighbors. My mother not only raised me and my sister, but also her friends' children, and vice versa. I was also with aunts, grandmas, and cousins, and I was in different homes. Larry and I can naturally connect because of the way we grew up, and it's part of who we are - as is La Caoba. I would define it more as a movement than a collective. We are not separate from our environments, each other, or the world. For me, that's why the participatory aspect of my work and creating for the sake of community became very important. In some ways, I could feel the connection between two completely different exhibitions. However, I have my own individual practice, as does Larry. We started working intensely together as the commune6x3 collective during our studies. Initially, we were known as "Building Activation." I like bringing people together to share, reflect, and consciously create such situations. "I HAVE NO WORDS" at Alte Schmelze was one of the exhibitions that made me reflect on my work differently. That was an emotional show. It was the first time I presented works from my family archives and reflected directly on the socio-political disaster in Georgia. I felt this split between societies and people in my heart a lot. Nowadays, I am trying to de-materialize my work more and more, leaning towards performance and returning to my video practice. For me, it's a very collaborative sphere, and I feel more grounded and genuine in it. I need more interaction with people and participation; otherwise, I feel dead inside. Something is definitely shifting, and so are my mind and body with this whole idea of what it means to be part of a community or a collective, or to create communities, and what kind of communities we need right now. Urgency is essential in my work. Urgency is transitory; it always transforms and shifts into something else. That's how we grow as individuals within a collective, I think, maybe Germany is not ready for my work yet. Presenting the same show or works in a different context or culture would be received completely differently. Of course, space and environment matter; artists and architects are a perfect match. I always love familiarizing myself with the spaces I work in, from the corners to the smells and shapes. Now, we are in a highly digital sphere, but I am an old-school soul who believes we still need physical spaces to intersect - or maybe a mixture of both - in order to form fruitful exchanges and safe environments, or, let's call it, coexistence.

For more information on Sopo Kashakashvili, please visit -

Instagram @sopokash

The interview was conducted in 2026.