Four years is the age difference between them. When they were children, their characters were drastically different, as were their interests. Time has gradually erased these differences.

   Tamriko: We “got acquainted with” each other when it became clear that our interests were the same.
   Basa: This happened when I was sixteen and Tamriko turned twenty. Tamriko was very intelligent and educated. She would sit at home all the time looking very calm and composed and she would read. As for me, both eyes and all my thoughts were focused on the outdoors. My parents were continuously scolding me: Go inside and pick up a book! It was just the opposite with Tamriko: they kept hiding books from her to urge her to go out.
   Tamriko: Basa was very naughty and mischievous, but very purposeful and sometimes stubborn. Whatever she intended to do, she would accomplish at all costs. She seldom chose to compromise. Her credo was “truth at all times” - she always said what she thought. She was in the sixth grade when she went alone on holiday to Kvishkheti to stay at the “Writers' House” there. At home her independence was perceived with trust.
   For a long time I smoked secretly, without my family's knowledge. As soon as Basa started smoking, she announced: “I have just started smoking and please don't send me out to the porch to smoke.” Such was my sister,  very straightforward and “revolutionary”. The only thing at which I could outpace her was when I discovered a book.
   Basa: Discovered not a book (laughing) but almost every book!
   Tamriko: …and then I'd suggest that she read it. In this, too, Basa was original. I began reading with “Uncle Tom's Cabin” and I continued accordingly… One can say that Basa hasn't traversed the reader's “classical” path, considered as such in our time. She started off with Dostoevski's “The Idiot” and he remains her most favourite author to date.
   After leaving school, Basa decided to proceed with her studies at the Film Direction Faculty. At that time I was studying at the Fine Art Faculty of the Art Academy and, being a second year student, I realized that I had a calling
for the screen.

   Tamriko's and Basa's decisions have coincided in time, and it turned out that they were motivated by the same interests. And now the two sisters, who have “become acquainted with each other” as adults, can hardly make a single step without each other.

   Basa: In the majority of cases, children love their parents most. Of course, we are crazy about both of them: our mum and dad. But still, we love each other most of all. The only person that has replaced Tamriko is my nephew, and
probably just because he is Tamriko's son.

“Screen” relationships…
 
   Basa: The main principle of our existence, our private life and our creative work, is individuality, as well as our own vision and our own opinion. I generally think that it is impossible to teach love or any kind of relationship. Such things exist by themselves in each of us, but family and environment also contribute. Both family environment and my college, where merited people shouldered us, have significantly influenced me, personally.
   At home, both of us were given complete freedom of action in everything. Our father always respected our views, even those which were considered unacceptable and erroneous, and this subsequently resulted in our respect of other people's opinion and labour. When something is being accomplished or created, it is by itself worthy of respect. And work, which has been undertaken, always deserves appreciation.
   Tamriko: Our father would never say about someone's poem, music or picture that it was bad or that it did not appeal to him. “One can always find the good side of a subject and you should have the skill to see it,” he used to tell us. Very often people that were unacquainted with him came to our house to read their poems to him. Some of these poems seemed absolutely absurd to us, but Moris would manage to find even a single strophe and say: “How good it is. This is where he found meaning!” And this was the happiness of seeing the good in everything.
   Basa: It was also great happiness for me to find myself in Lana Gogoberidze's and Omar Gvasalia's group at the Theatrical Institute. Levan Paatashvili and Shura Mghebrishvili taught us camera art, Erlom Akhvlediani - dramatic art, Otar Ioseliani, Irakli Kvirikadze and Merab Tavadze - montage, Gary Kuntsev - sound, screen history - Olga Tabukashvili, Natia Amiredjibi and Gogi Dolidze. These were the people who taught us humaneness above all; they taught us to love every member of the group; they instilled in us a sense of responsibility for cameramen, actors and light engineers. We were entrusted with the responsibility of taking care of them, not only in the course of shooting, but also in everyday life. And we have been seeking to maintain these relationships to date.
   Now I am a teacher myself. I also have students and I am trying to instill in them the same. I keep reiterating to them that, out of eight men, not all may make good film directors but all eight must necessarily be good personalities.

Sisters at work…

   Basa: In general I am a very faithful person by nature. I
am loyal to the cause that I serve. There is one feature that is peculiar to me: I would rather do nothing at all than have something I had conceived half done. Therefore, when it happened that, due to certain reasons, film-making was temporarily suspended in Georgia, I just stopped for a while and kept waiting for better times… Then father passed away and his memorial evening was to be arranged. Olga Tabukashvili, my former teacher, came to me and said: “You must take on the burden of all the arrangements yourself. Nobody, other than you, will be able to do it.” This is exactly what happened. Moris' memorial evening was held in Rustaveli Theatre and it really turned out to be very good. This is because it was filled with a very different kind of love, the greatest love, which came from me. The first Georgian Cinema Academy Festival followed thereafter. I was invited again. Then Tamriko Bartaia invited me to work on the “Adult Tale” (Didebis zghapari). This was followed by show concerts, clips and so forth.
   Tamriko: I was the artist for Basa's first film. It was her diploma work. It happened that we went to Batumi for shooting. Basa can't tolerate drunkenness, especially during shooting. The lights went out several times while shooting. Basa found out that the light engineer was drunk…
   Basa: This was not the first time this happened with him. You may forgive a person once.
   Tamriko: …The engineer's fate was decided that very night.  “Let's take a ticket and send him back to Tbilisi,” Basa said. Despite her youth, her word had real power. The engineer was dismissed. The next day, in the evening, when Basa demanded lighting, we had no engineer in place.
   Basa: Tamriko always has to stand next to me on the set, whether I need her or not. She gives me the strongest incentive when I am working. I might not need her at all at some specific point in time but, even if she leaves for an hour, I feel uneasy. When I have the montage ready, I must hear Tamriko's opinion first. I know she will be frank. I know exactly what she will like and what she will dislike. But I have to ask her, anyway. No one and nothing can replace Tamriko for me in my work.
   Tamriko: To have a chance of being a part of Basa's filming, one needs to be distinguished by something original or extraordinary.
    Basa: I always try to select a character that is atypical. I usually give preference to something that is remarkable for its individuality, something strange, rather than classical, refined beauty.
   Tamriko: Basa always tries to avoid creating artificial beauty. She dislikes fiction and untruths, both in life and in art. She refutes imitation.
   Basa: When you work a lot, you are confronted with the danger of repeating yourself. I teach my students: you may still rob someone else, but never rob yourself; you can't keep doing the same all the time. Perhaps it is silly when you are doing something similar to someone else. Unconsciously, the greatest writers and painters fell under someone else's influence. But this is still a different thing. It happened to me as well, when I was doing something and was suddenly stopped by Tamriko: “But that's Bertolucci, Visconti!” Such things occur unconsciously, because I grew up with their creative work. I have always liked them and I am fond of them now, but as soon as someone points it out to me I try immediately to redo my work.
   Yet, another thing that is typical of us, is our romantic character - probably because we are the children of a poet. We don't pay much heed to routine things. For us art, beauty and poetry don't need outer auspicious conditions; when working, we always set inner spirituality in the foreground.
   Tamriko: We were shooting Temur Tatarashvili's clip for a long time in the streets, at the collapsed walls. A feeling arose in me that a person can be happy anywhere  under the open sky and even in the streets. Even beggars can be happy. Even there, in the streets, real feelings and true beauty can exist, maybe even a hundred times more than in a well ordered and well arranged life.

Professionals and the outer world…

   Basa: The reality of today, our way of life and the outer world, do not influence our activities. We do not waste our time on trifles and we try to view things poetically. We don't give heed to the impediments surrounding us. Moris used to say: Nothing can restrain love. If someone wants to do something, nothing can bar his desire. I think the same. I don't set conditions for doing something. This seems to be a way out, invented by lazybones and ungifted people. When a person is eager to do something, nothing and nobody will be able to prevent him from accomplishing it.

The business of advertisement

   Basa: There is no branch in Georgia, which has ceased developing due to lack of money; and this is true of art in particular. This is because Georgian people do not suffer from lack of talent. These days competition has emerged, spurring the appearance of interesting adverts. We have many gifted producers, scriptwriters, painters, cameramen and designers but, unfortunately, few of them are invited by the client. He or she prefers to approach those who are most popular. In this case, it is likely that the fear factor on the part of the customer will play a certain role - what will the outcome be, how will it look, how will it be perceived?
   Tamriko: A Georgian customer cannot accept any alternative idea in advertising and it is fairly improbable that he or she will place an order with you. Generally, a customer should not interfere in the competencies of a scriptwriter, an artist or a producer. It is extremely hard when a professional works under pressure of a client. The more the customer trusts an artist, the better an advert will be. There is another side to the coin  - you are paid and, therefore, you are obliged to make certain compromises.
   Basa: I believe that money is not worthy of any compromise. Money will disappear in a couple of days and you might be left disgraced. I have my own advertising psychology - it is absolute intuition. It is not true when they say that everything must be presented in the simplest possible form to be repeated over and over again. I believe that even the worst person sees and perceives the good in something, the best. That is why it is necessary to show him or her something that is not simple and easily understandable, but something highly moral and super-elevated, even if he cannot grasp its essence. Even a person deprived of any talents is capable of taking delight in good things.
   I have learnt that the new MagtiCom commercial was well received by the audience. I must tell you that it has been a long time since I enjoyed my work this much. The pleasure I have experienced equalled the pleasure I feel from shooting a film, because of the décor and the scenery belonging to Tamriko, from creating properties and costumes. I had the feeling I were shooting a big movie.
   It is very difficult to create something good, something special. The greatest happiness for a creator is not only the good result of his or her work, but also the creative process itself. Perhaps that is why a real creator works indefatigably and then joy, happiness, appreciation of his/her gift and popularity fall to his/her lot in reward.
 
    And this popularity, appreciation and recognition are, probably, a pleasant burden for a creator to carry.
   Tamriko recalls: When shooting one of the clips with a great many children around, we failed to calm them down. They were virtually going crazy. Suddenly, someone pointed at me: This is Basa's sister. The children settled down at once, lined up in a row and asked for my autograph one by one. I wrote: “Tamriko Potskhishvili -  Basa's sister.”
 
    This is truly a great bliss.