Polina Khachaturyan
Instagram: @itspokh
Email: polinakhachaturyan@gmail.com
Sometimes I see an object and think:
“It’s too perfect. I shouldn’t touch it.”
So I touch it.
Cut it. Disrupt it. Rearrange it.
Often, it’s a small, stupid detail — a leftover wrapper, a stain, a weird shadow — and I can’t stop thinking about it until I translate it. Maybe it’s a bizarre adaptation through fixation on the everyday.
Performance, installation, drawing, video — they’re just ways to hold the thought, to make it visible. I’m not loyal to any medium or material.
-The last time it was a carpet.
‘Untitled (Rug: What the f**k?)’
Rug, motion sensor light, wood construction
2025
250 x 180 x 85 cm approx.
My mother used to say I didn’t take care of things. Once, I spilled paint on her rug. She snapped with fury.
Later, I wrote a poem. It begins with:
“I’m not afraid of anything except…”
"Я не боюсь ничего кроме..."
Two years ago I moved to England and bought my own rug.
I kept spilling everything on it. Each time, I felt like I was about to be punished.
The fear returned, as if nothing had changed.
So I cut the poem into its surface to face the truth and that disturbing feeling.
She was right. I don’t take care of things.
But I care about what remains.