"Morning" Painting

Besik was born on February 17, 1955, in Georgia—a country with a soul as ancient as its landscapes. Hi's father, Mikhail Arbolishvili, was a painter, and mother was a piano teacher. Growing up surrounded by creativity, I naturally found harmony in the arts. Georgia, with its rich history and enduring cultural depth, has always been an inspiration. It’s a land where ancient echoes live on, even in the discovery of a 1.7-million-year-old hominid skull in its eastern valleys. I don’t plan my paintings in the traditional sense. My process is intuitive—driven not by sketches or blueprints, but by the life I’ve lived. The images arrive unannounced, flowing through me like a current. When I create, I often forget the act of painting itself. It’s as though I become a channel; the work doesn’t belong solely to me—it belongs to everyone. Daily discipline is essential. Like a priest in prayer, I paint each day to stay in tune with the invisible source of inspiration. I believe that an artist must always be ready to receive the impulse that might become a painting. I’m often asked what “ism” defines my work—expressionism, surrealism, realism—but I don’t subscribe to labels. I simply paint as I am. My art is shaped by feeling and emotion, and most of all, by love. To me, love is not just a concept but a presence—sometimes comforting, sometimes painful, always real. Since 1976, I’ve participated in national exhibitions, and since 1989, in international ones. My first solo show was in 1997 at Hobby Gallery in Tbilisi, followed by a 1998 exhibition at the State Picture Gallery. Over the years, I’ve shown work in Germany (Ruhr, Duisburg, Cologne, Düsseldorf), the U.S., and more. In 1998, I was invited by MVP International to join a cultural exchange at Virginia Commonwealth University, where I met with young American artists. My work has appeared in Phillips auction catalogs, and one of my most meaningful exhibitions took place at the International Monetary Fund in Washington. My paintings are held in collections across the world—from Richmond, Virginia to Munich, Moscow to Melbourne. One special story lives in the painting “The White Peacock,” which was gifted to a cathedral in Florida. The family who donated it told me, “The color speaks louder than the subject. Its light is spiritual.” That kind of response reminds me why I paint. Art is beauty for the viewer, but for the artist, it’s more. It’s a time machine.