Returning to Georgia, Choosing Quiet This Time

Georgia already holds one of the most personal chapters of this project — I've written before about the 2016 trip that ended, right after I came home, with the news that the pregnancy had stopped developing. For a long time afterward, it was hard to even think about the country without thinking about that.

So when I went back in August 2025, I did something different from my usual approach. Instead of a capital city or a busy street corner, I brought the plaque to Telavi, in the Kakheti wine region, and placed it quietly near Saint George Church — away from crowds, away from anywhere I'd need to explain myself to anyone.

Back in Georgia, and this time I've chosen a peaceful, quiet place rather than big cities. When you've been through miscarriages, you need space to be on your own.

That's really the whole reason for the choice. Most of this project happens in public, on busy walls, sometimes with a friend filming or a stranger walking past mid-installation. This one didn't need an audience. Some places you return to need to be handled gently, and some days call for solitude rather than a street corner with foot traffic.

I don't think a quiet installation is a lesser one. Some places ask for a wall in the middle of a city, and some ask for nothing more than a church, a vineyard, and an afternoon with no one watching. Other plaques have found their way into landscapes rather than streets, and each time it happens I'm reminded that this project was never really about the size of the audience. What's actually left after a loss isn't loud either, most of the time — it's something quieter than that, that just needs a place to sit.

I don't think every city needs a dramatic story attached to it. Sometimes the story is simply: I went back to a place that once hurt, and this time I gave myself room to just be there.