Tako

Tako spent her teenage years counting steps, then deliberately forgot the count during her first self-directed film. The result was uneven, funny and much more recognisably hers. She still loves technique; she simply refuses to confuse a well-repeated gesture with a living one. Her notebooks contain precise diagrams interrupted by very dramatic drawings of people falling over.

She began filming friends between rehearsals, borrowing staircases and empty rooms as temporary stages. When a polished proposal was turned down, she made a smaller piece with one lamp and a stubbornly creaking floor. Sandro recorded the creak instead of hiding it. Their film became an argument for using what a room gives you rather than pretending it is somewhere else.

The Heritage silhouette appeals to her because pleats reveal decisions only when someone moves. She is interested in Georgian details as active material, never a fixed instruction to perform the past. Elene is building her a folding paper doorway; Tako keeps asking what happens if it opens the wrong way. This question is beginning to test their friendship.

Salome edits the texts attached to her films and refuses phrases such as an unforgettable journey. Tako complains, then admits the shorter versions sound more like her. She has become good at persuading a group to attempt something difficult. What she has not learned is how to notice when enthusiasm has quietly turned into pressure for everyone else.