MIR
VERSE
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【 Serf to ______________ Discover more 】
other whimsical
Tbilisi
An Illustrator
based in NY
✘ ABOUT ✘
( EST. 2024 )
projects.
ಇ
MIRA is both my studio and alter ego:
a space where worldbuilding, handmade craft, and bold visual direction collide.
— part studio,
part everyday wonder.
Visdev
Artist
making
illustrations,
cinematic videos,
handmade gifts
mixed-media
worlds through
✘ PLAYLIST ✘
ಇ
Playlist
The
【 CREATIVE MIXTAPES 】
—
my art
fully living
My favorite part
is building entire
inside them
I make a
playlists for every
Phase of my life
✗♡✗♡
The Blog
【 MIRA DIARIES 】
ཐི༏ཋྀ
Unfiltered: Losing Isn’t Loss
────────
────────
────────
ཐི༏ཋྀ
Unfiltered: 4 Creative Truths Pt.1
READ
READ
READ
READ
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✦ Unfiltered: Losing Isn’t Loss
if I said I’ve failed more times than I’ve succeeded — would that mean I lost, or that I refused to stop trying?
I used to think failure meant I wasn’t good enough. that if something didn’t work, it was proof I should quit. but the truth is... losing is part of building. it’s the tax we pay for wanting something real.
when I look back, my whole story was built on falling forward. I grew up restless — my grandma called me untamed, always moving, touching every idea like it might bite back. one week I was painting, the next I was climbing trees or breaking piano keys. it was chaos, but it was the kind that made me feel alive.
then, somewhere along the way, I started believing that growing up meant getting it right. suddenly, art wasn’t play anymore — it was exams, deadlines, expectations. I learned design, chased the “safe” version of creativity, landed a solid job, and checked every box I thought would prove I’d made it.
but it didn’t feel like “made it.” it felt like I’d just built a prettier cage.
so I left. and honestly, I don’t have a glamorous story about it — no perfect plan, no magical timing. I just remember one day realizing I’d rather fail at what I love than win at what numbs me.
1. the fall
the months after were rough. my days started to blur — sketches I hated, jobs I didn’t get, plans that fell apart before they began. I remember nights staring at unfinished work, thinking maybe the world was right: maybe I wasn’t built for this.
but something small kept me moving — not hope, exactly, but curiosity. I started learning random things just to feel progress again. flute. guitar. anything that reminded me effort still mattered. it was like training my brain to believe again.
and slowly, it worked. the noise in my head got quieter. I stopped waiting to be “ready” and just kept showing up, even when no one was watching.
2. the rebuild
every loss taught me to notice what was left standing.
my passion. my grit. my weird little fire that refused to die.
it’s funny — I thought failure was an ending, but it became my teacher. it stripped away everything I was pretending to be and left me with what was real.
the truth is, losing isn’t the opposite of winning. it’s the soil where the real stuff grows.
sometimes you just have to lose who you were to meet who you’re becoming.
so yeah. losing isn’t loss. it’s just a reroute.
sometimes it’s the universe whispering, you outgrew that version — try again, louder.
𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆
✦ UNFILTERED: LOSING ISN'T LOSS
2025 OCTOMBER
【 ACCORDING TO MIRA 】
A DEEPER DIVE
if I said I’ve failed more times than I’ve succeeded — would that mean I lost, or that I refused to stop trying?
I used to think failure meant I wasn’t good enough. that if something didn’t work, it was proof I should quit. but the truth is... losing is part of building. it’s the tax we pay for wanting something real.
when I look back, my whole story was built on falling forward. I grew up restless — my grandma called me untamed, always moving, touching every idea like it might bite back. one week I was painting, the next I was climbing trees or breaking piano keys. it was chaos, but it was the kind that made me feel alive.
then, somewhere along the way, I started believing that growing up meant getting it right. suddenly, art wasn’t play anymore — it was exams, deadlines, expectations. I learned design, chased the “safe” version of creativity, landed a solid job, and checked every box I thought would prove I’d made it.
but it didn’t feel like “made it.” it felt like I’d just built a prettier cage.
so I left. and honestly, I don’t have a glamorous story about it — no perfect plan, no magical timing. I just remember one day realizing I’d rather fail at what I love than win at what numbs me. ᕱᕱ
1. FALL
the months after were rough. my days started to blur — sketches I hated, jobs I didn’t get, plans that fell apart before they began. I remember nights staring at unfinished work, thinking maybe the world was right: maybe I wasn’t built for this.
but something small kept me moving — not hope, exactly, but curiosity. I started learning random things just to feel progress again. flute. guitar. anything that reminded me effort still mattered. it was like training my brain to believe again.
and slowly, it worked. the noise in my head got quieter. I stopped waiting to be “ready” and just kept showing up, even when no one was watching. ㄨ✘✗ﾒ✗•. ᐟ
2. THE REBUILD ☆
every loss taught me to notice what was left standing.
my passion. my grit. my weird little fire that refused to die.
it’s funny — I thought failure was an ending, but it became my teacher. it stripped away everything I was pretending to be and left me with what was real.
the truth is, losing isn’t the opposite of winning. it’s the soil where the real stuff grows.
sometimes you just have to lose who you were to meet who you’re becoming.
so yeah. losing isn’t loss. it’s just a reroute.
sometimes it’s the universe telling you, you outgrew that version — try again, louder⭑.ᐟ
ʚଓ
✦ UNFILTERED: 4 CREATIVE TRUTHS PT.1
2025 NOVEMBER
【 ACCORDING TO MIRA 】
A DEEPER DIVE
recently I’ve been thinking about what creativity actually means when you strip away the pretty parts.
not the instagram highlight reel — but the quiet, messy, very real moments that make you question if you’re even built for this.
these are four truths that keep me grounded when the noise gets too loud.
let’s get into it ꩜
1. NO ONE KNOWS WHAT THEY'RE DOING
I used to think everyone around me had a map — like they woke up one day with clarity and purpose, while I was still trying to figure out where north even was.
but no one really knows. we’re all just experimenting, trying to make sense of what we love.
the sooner you accept that, the freer you get. because art isn’t about certainty — it’s about trying anyway.
you don’t wait until you “feel ready.” you start, mess up, learn, repeat.
2. CONSISTENCY BEATS INSPIRATION
there will be days you don’t feel like creating — and those days matter most.
waiting for motivation is like waiting for rain in a drought.
you show up, even when it’s dry. ✘
creativity isn’t magic, it’s muscle memory. every time you pick up the brush, the pen, the tablet — you’re training that muscle to trust you.
and eventually, it starts showing up for you. ×͜×
3. REST ISN'T LAZINESS
sometimes doing nothing is part of the work.
when you pause, the ideas catch up.
you can’t build from burnout.
I had to unlearn that productivity = worth. rest is where your taste refills itself — where you remember what feels good, not just what looks good.
your art deserves a rested version of you. ₤ò益óꀣ
4. START UGLY, START NOW
there’s this pressure to have a timeline, a strategy, a five-year plan — but honestly, most of my favorite things came from detours.
progress isn’t linear. it loops, it breaks, it restarts.
sometimes the lost phases are the ones quietly rewriting your direction.
you don’t have to know where this leads — you just have to stay curious enough to keep walking. 𒅌
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Newsletter
ཐི༏ཋྀ
If I said I have failed more times than you ever tried, would that mean I lost or that I refused to give up? Or maybe you’d see it for what it is: the only way to grow.
Growing up, my grandmother often lovingly called me ‘untamed’ — always restless, chasing something new, brimming with questions every single day, never one to sit still, as she liked to say. At that point I was a freshly baked first grader, still trying to figure out how the world worked. I bounced between hobbies: basketball in the evenings, studying hard in school out of curiosity for every subject, trying piano, even sketching basic compositions from TV.
All in all, I spend my childhood years at my village as fulfilled as possible. Then, as all good things must come to an end - in my teen years I faced my first tough decision: what I wanted to do with my life. I knew I wanted to be an artist, but in my country the only clear path was fine art, and most artists struggled to survive. My parents worried, and so did I. Then I discovered graphic design — still new but rising in demand. It looked like the balance I needed between passion and stability.
But before I could claim that happy ending, I had to slay one last dragon: learning academic drawing in just six months, completely on my own. With no tutors in my village, I turned to YouTube and free resources, grinding daily while also preparing for Georgia’s national exams. It wasn’t easy, but it paid off: I was admitted to my university with a 100% government scholarship.
And as every happy ending has the day after, at university I found myself in a big fish–small pond situation: moving to the big city was overwhelming, and I struggled to socialize. But I refused to give up. Since I like to tackle challenges with even bigger challenges, I landed my first internship in graphic design, and by my final year I was thriving as a middle art director at one of Georgia’s leading banks. I also went from being too shy to draw in studio class to completing my bachelor’s diploma project with a perfect score of 100.
And now you might ask — don’t you already have everything you ever wanted? but it’s funny how once you finally get what you were chasing, you realise the gold is just plastic. Even at my career peak, that balance of stability and passion didn’t make me feel accomplished. So I walked away from the safe version of success and trusted my gut, stepping into the unknown.
For 8–9 months I painted daily, rebuilt fundamentals, joined PleinAirpril ’25, freelanced, and studied with Zac Retz and Michael Sawtyruk. Even opened my small handmade gift shop, MIRA.
But transitions are lonely. There were nights I questioned if I had bitten off more than I could chew — failing to find my own style, struggling to get gigs, barely surviving. At one point, constant failure convinced me that no matter how much effort I put in, nothing would come out of it. But, I refused to give in. I found a strange way to rewire my brain from that depressive mood: I taught myself flute and guitar, just to create proof that effort does lead to progress. It reminded me that big leaps take time.
and mine eventually did, leading to my first breakthrough: becoming a finalist in the 2025 Concept Art Awards, Beacon Character category. That moment convinced me I was ready for my next leap: ArtCenter. And I believe ArtCenter is the place for artists like that — the untamed, full of raw emotion and a desire to grow every single day.
Because what's the greatest way to cultivate one's character if not always attempting what, on first sight, seems impossible?
✦ UNFILTERED: 4 CREATIVE TRUTHS PT.1
2025 NOVEMBER
【 ACCORDING TO MIRA 】
A DEEPER DIVE
recently I’ve been thinking about what creativity actually means when you strip away the pretty parts.
not the instagram highlight reel — but the quiet, messy, very real moments that make you question if you’re even built for this.
these are four truths that keep me grounded when the noise gets too loud.
let’s get into it ꩜
1. NO ONE KNOWS WHAT THEY'RE DOING
I used to think everyone around me had a map — like they woke up one day with clarity and purpose, while I was still trying to figure out where north even was.
but no one really knows. we’re all just experimenting, trying to make sense of what we love.
the sooner you accept that, the freer you get. because art isn’t about certainty — it’s about trying anyway.
you don’t wait until you “feel ready.” you start, mess up, learn, repeat.
2. CONSISTENCY BEATS INSPIRATION
there will be days you don’t feel like creating — and those days matter most.
waiting for motivation is like waiting for rain in a drought.
you show up, even when it’s dry. ✘
creativity isn’t magic, it’s muscle memory. every time you pick up the brush, the pen, the tablet — you’re training that muscle to trust you.
and eventually, it starts showing up for you. ×͜×
3. REST ISN'T LAZINESS
sometimes doing nothing is part of the work.
when you pause, the ideas catch up.
you can’t build from burnout.
I had to unlearn that productivity = worth. rest is where your taste refills itself — where you remember what feels good, not just what looks good.
your art deserves a rested version of you. ₤ò益óꀣ
4. START UGLY, START NOW
there’s this pressure to have a timeline, a strategy, a five-year plan — but honestly, most of my favorite things came from detours.
progress isn’t linear. it loops, it breaks, it restarts.
sometimes the lost phases are the ones quietly rewriting your direction.
you don’t have to know where this leads — you just have to stay curious enough to keep walking. 𒅌
ʚଓ
every loss taught me to notice what was left standing.
my passion. my grit. my weird little fire that refused to die.
it’s funny — I thought failure was an ending, but it became my teacher. it stripped away everything I was pretending to be and left me with what was real.
the truth is, losing isn’t the opposite of winning. it’s the soil where the real stuff grows.
sometimes you just have to lose who you were to meet who you’re becoming.
so yeah. losing isn’t loss. it’s just a reroute.
sometimes it’s the universe telling you, you outgrew that version — try again, louder⭑.ᐟ
2. THE REBUILD ☆
the months after were rough. my days started to blur — sketches I hated, jobs I didn’t get, plans that fell apart before they began. I remember nights staring at unfinished work, thinking maybe the world was right: maybe I wasn’t built for this.
but something small kept me moving — not hope, exactly, but curiosity. I started learning random things just to feel progress again. flute. guitar. anything that reminded me effort still mattered. it was like training my brain to believe again.
and slowly, it worked. the noise in my head got quieter. I stopped waiting to be “ready” and just kept showing up, even when no one was watching. ㄨ✘✗ﾒ✗•. ᐟ
1. FALL
if I said I’ve failed more times than I’ve succeeded — would that mean I lost, or that I refused to stop trying?
I used to think failure meant I wasn’t good enough. that if something didn’t work, it was proof I should quit. but the truth is... losing is part of building. it’s the tax we pay for wanting something real.
when I look back, my whole story was built on falling forward. I grew up restless — my grandma called me untamed, always moving, touching every idea like it might bite back. one week I was painting, the next I was climbing trees or breaking piano keys. it was chaos, but it was the kind that made me feel alive.
then, somewhere along the way, I started believing that growing up meant getting it right. suddenly, art wasn’t play anymore — it was exams, deadlines, expectations. I learned design, chased the “safe” version of creativity, landed a solid job, and checked every box I thought would prove I’d made it.
but it didn’t feel like “made it.” it felt like I’d just built a prettier cage.
so I left. and honestly, I don’t have a glamorous story about it — no perfect plan, no magical timing. I just remember one day realizing I’d rather fail at what I love than win at what numbs me. ᕱᕱ
A DEEPER DIVE
【 ACCORDING TO MIRA 】