25 Soviet Mosaics in Tbilisi & Other Memorabilia with a Map

Soviet mosaics in Tbilisi and across the post-Soviet countries are among the most impressive artistic heritage of the bygone era. These mosaics, scattered across public buildings, factories, and cultural centers, reflect the ideological messaging and a mix of modernist aesthetics and Socialist Realism.

I honestly don’t remember when I became obsessed with Soviet mosaics. I grew up looking at them but never paid too much or any attention, and I believe my career shift from a journalist to a travel writer and content creator, which made me “act as a tourist” in my own city and country, played a significant role in my vast interest in Soviet architecture.

Brightly colored Soviet mosaics of geometric compositions and grand narratives of industrial progress, collective labor, and technological advancement are always worth a roadside stop or a slight detour.

Since the dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1991, much Soviet art, be it buildings, signs, or mosaics, has also perished—some on its own due to neglect and others because of the new owners who decided they wanted to erase any association with that era.

I understand perfectly that the Soviet years were a time of pressure, intimidation, and oppression for many, and they hold a hostile opinion towards any of those relics, especially in Georgia, as they serve as a constant reminder of the intolerance of its ideological course.

Many Georgians won’t agree, but despite their ideological meaning, this is our heritage, whether we like it or not. And I genuinely believe we should understand and appreciate their artistic value instead of thoroughly obliterating the legacy of the Soviet past from visual and cultural memory.

Although it’s not a popular opinion among many locals, Soviet architecture, mosaics, and other memorabilia of that era attract many foreign tourists to the country.

After all, these mosaics remain a visual layer of Soviet architecture in Tbilisi, offering an understanding of the period’s artistic and political initiatives.

Other Soviet memorabilia, such as bas-reliefs, subtle communist-era symbols like the hammer and sickle, and residential directory signs in apartment entryways, are scattered throughout the city. If you know where to look, you can glimpse at life during the Soviet years.

This dedicated post to the Soviet mosaics in Tbilisi discusses the emergence of mosaic art as a propaganda tool, how they were made in Georgia, preservation works, and what the Tbilisi Soviet mosaics show. It also lists other leftover memorabilia of the bygone era.

Disclaimer: Some of the links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you buy something through them—at no extra cost to you. It helps support my blog and lets me share real, first-hand travel tips. Learn more

The start of the mosaic art in the Soviet Union

Throughout the Soviet Union, mosaics played a crucial role in urban design as monumental storytelling tools supporting State ideology.

In almost every city or town, public spaces—metro stations, factories, bus stops, fountains, and housing complexes—became canvases for large-scale state-commissioned colorful artworks that glorified the socialist future by showcasing workers, engineers, scientists, and even cosmic exploration.

The art of mosaic is not native to the Soviet Union and has been part of our worldwide ancient history and culture. One example is the Dzalisi archeological complex near Tbilisi, with its Roman-era mosaic floor.

However, it became official public art for the USSR when its leader, Vladimir Lenin, realized that the giant paintings would fade away in the brutal winters and that the gray spaces on the building could be used to create decorative and monumental art to show “great industrialization” and “happiness of the communist society,” be a pop of color on gloomy winter days and aid in the upbringing of new generations with the ideology he believed in.

During the Stalin era, mosaics became the state-sanctioned style of Socialist Realism and promoted the Union’s accomplishments by depicting athletic farmers working in fields, engineers and scientists indicating the way to a glorious future, honorable, stone-faced soldiers defending women and children from fascism, and superhuman with utopian or futuristic powers.

On the other hand, the next leader, Nikita Khrushchev, issued a resolution in 1955 to eliminate extra state expenses for architectural buildings and basically banned costly decorations.

After his death, Leonid Brezhnev brought back monumental art. Mosaic panels on public and residential buildings began appearing again in the 1960s and peaked in the 1970s and 1980s. They became a way to decorate and distinguish buildings primarily constructed with the same materials and basic designs.

Universities started teaching it as part of the curriculum, where students studied complex techniques of producing reliefs, mosaics, and frescos.

During this time, the State assigned mosaics and bas-reliefs various functions and themes, but they were obviously not free from the regime’s ideology or censorship.

Unlike in the early years, the Soviet government relaxed the approach to making architecture highly nationalistic and supported the use of local history, folklore, and ethnic elements. However, they should still have socialist content and communicate the ideological values of the central government to the population.

That’s why mosaics from the 1960s to 1980s showcase national dances, celebrations of Soviet holidays in national costumes, references to national history, along with Socialist heroes working for a “bright communist future,” athletes, educators, scientists, cosmonauts, and farmers and laborers of various industries.

How Soviet mosaics were made & commissioned in Georgia

Mosaic images and patterns are made with different techniques and various materials, such as colored stones, stained glass, beads, ceramics, shells, and more.

In the Soviet era, the primary material for mosaics was Smalto (an alloy of opaque, tinted glass cut into small pieces), produced in Ukraine and other Baltic states and distributed across the Union, including Soviet Georgia.

Due to their durability, Smalti mosaics are among the most costly, high-quality, and valuable. Besides Smalti, another method of creating mosaics was using pieces of ceramic or pebbles.

The artists assembled the artwork in the workshop first and then mounted it on the facade afterward. The full-size colored sketch was divided into square sections, which were placed upside down on dry, transparent paper, glued, and transferred to the wall.

The function of the building determined the theme of the mosaic. Those placed on enterprises praised scientific and technological progress and labor. However, some of them were purely decorative without any specific theme.

The State commissioned almost all the projects through the Union of Artists and its Art Fund. However, private individuals would also commission the artists directly.

For many artists, working on mosaics was the easiest way to earn a good amount of money. Composition, complexity, and colorfulness determined the value of the work, and the payment was relatively high.

There was no particular system or plan for placing mosaics in public spaces, and Moscow was eager to spend unlimited state money on propaganda and generously supplied resources.

Although mosaics were an integral part of Soviet architecture in Georgia, unlike the other fields of Soviet art, mosaics aren’t studied here, and artworks are not gathered, organized, and archived.

Therefore, the data and authors are often unknown. It’s safe to assume that the State or the artists did not appropriately acclaim the mosaic art.

Neglect and the preservation works of Soviet mosaics in Georgia

Like many industries, this art direction was neglected after the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. Georgia underwent a severe economic decline and experienced complex social, cultural, and political adaptation processes.

Parts of resorts, hotels, and educational and health complexes were (and sometimes still are) occupied by internally displaced persons (IDP) from breakaway Abkhazia or South Ossetia.

Survival was the primary problem of the population at the time. The period of change was challenging; wars and economic stagnation pushed massive chaos in the country. The entire decade, pretty much my childhood, is called the “dark 90s” by locals.

The prolonged recession caused additional damage to the existing mosaics because they haven’t been given legal protection, which continues even today. There is still neither political nor public interest in preserving them. Many of them have already been demolished or face the threat of obliteration.

When President Mikheil Saakashvili came into power in 2004 and declared Russia the country’s main enemy, this marked the active ideological fight against everything ‘Soviet.’ In 2011, the Parliament passed the Freedom Charter banning totalitarian communist symbols.

However, this didn’t affect mosaics, as they almost never showed symbols such as hammers and sickles, flags, or any communist leader, including Stalin and Lenin.

The constant urban change that followed Saakashvili’s reforms, the peak in the free market economy, and the privatization of public spaces and industrial entities since the collapse of the Soviet Union all took part in their damage and neglect.

Over the past few years, an initiative to preserve, or at least document, the murals is gaining traction.

It should be noted that some of the privatized properties with mosaics have been restored and kept by the new “owners,” including mosaics at Expo Georgia, the swimming pool Neptune, the cookie and pastry shop on Tsintsadze Street, and the Fire Department building in Saburtalo.

Moreover, a book, Mosaics of the Soviet Period, was published in Georgia. In 2019, Geoair, a local art group, published a map of Soviet-era mosaics (which I use quite often but hasn’t been updated since, and some of the mosaics and buildings don’t exist anymore), a book, Tbilisi: It’s Complicated, and even postcards.

The Ribirabo Foundation is the only one I know that works on restoring and preserving Soviet mosaics in Tbilisi and across the country.

Themes of Soviet mosaics in Georgia

Soviet mosaics in Tbilisi and Georgia exemplify how the criteria for symbols and themes were set to include various socialist achievements, technological advances, and connections to national heritage.

Soviet symbolism, including the hammer and sickle, the red flag, the five-pointed star, Lenin, Stalin, or any other Soviet leader, was almost never featured in Georgian mosaics. The exceptions are CCCP (USSR) written here and there in Russian.  

Zurab Tsereteli, the famous sculptor and artist (author of The Chronicles of Georgia and the St. George’s Statue on Tbilisi’s Freedom Square), pioneered the development of Soviet monumental mosaic art in Georgia. In 1983, he even founded the Monumental Decorative Art Faculty at the Tbilisi State Academy of Arts.

Georgian mosaics also differ in style—from Socialist Realism to Futurism and geometric abstraction. Hunting down these mosaics is my favorite activity when traveling across Georgia.

Local artists were asked to reflect “the new social order and happiness” when working on the mosaics and bas-reliefs, giving them the “freedom” to show winemaking, the friendship of nations, Georgian tea production, the growth of industrial society and urbanization, hospitality, traditions, sports, cultural festivals (Berikaoba, for instance), heroes from Georgian history, or characters from local legends.

For example, many mosaics and bas-reliefs in Batumi incorporate fish or Poseidon themes due to the Black Sea and the country’s connections to Greek mythology.

Therefore, these mosaics often have a significant artistic value, symbolizing a key period in Georgian Soviet Modernism and proposing more than just “Soviet propaganda.”

The best examples of Soviet mosaics in Tbilisi

The mosaics in Tbilisi that have survived until today are scattered across the city, mainly on the outskirts and outside the city center. Visiting them requires some planning and can be slightly time-consuming.

Unfortunately, there is no Soviet tour of Tbilisi that concentrates only on mosaics. Instead, it takes visitors to the Modernist and Brutalist architecture of Tbilisi.

The best way to see the artwork of the bygone era, including bas-reliefs, signage, and communist-era symbolism, is to use my Soviet mosaics in Tbilisi map linked above.

However, if you still want to join a Tbilisi Soviet architecture tour, I recommend booking one of these two: Brutalist Tbilisi: Urban Exploration and Untold Stories (via Viator or GetYourGuide) or Tbilisi: The Urbex and Soviet Tour (Viator or GetYourGuide).

Ortachala Fire Station

One of the most famous mosaics in Tbilisi is on the facade of the Ortachala Fire Station of 1979, showing firefighters in action. It is the only one I’ve seen that includes the author and the date. 

At the center of the composition, a towering firefighter holds flickering flames in his hands. Behind him, a detailed panorama of Soviet Tbilisi unfolds, showcasing a mix of the city’s most recognizable landmarks from different eras. 

Among them are the Sioni Cathedral, dating back to the 6th century, and the 13th-century Metekhi Church, standing alongside 20th-century Soviet structures like the Sports Palace (1961), the Tbilisi Circus (1940), and the Boris Paichadze Dinamo Arena (1967). Even the Baltimore Hotel (formerly the Georgian branch of the Marx-Engels-Lenin Institute) and the former Iveria Hotel (now Radisson Blu Iveria Hotel) appear.

The only way to see the mosaic up close is through the fence, as the guards won’t let you inside. Alternatively, the nearby Ortachala Bus Station terrace is a great vantage point.  

Ortachala Bus Station

The Ortachala Central Bus Station, completed in 1973, is one of the good examples of Soviet Modernist architecture in Tbilisi with its minimalist aesthetic.

One of its most distinctive features is the relief mosaic on the windowless facade created by Zurab Tsereteli. The dominant theme here is wheels in various sizes, as parts of classic cars or as standalone elements. 

Among them, two hot air balloons break the pattern. The composition plays with rounded, organic shapes and a warm color palette of oranges and browns, a popular style in the 1960s Soviet Union and beyond. 

This dynamic color scheme adds a pop of color, making it feel out of sync based on the station’s transparent, floor-to-ceiling windows and modernist design.

Former Trade Union Palace of Culture

In intense red-brown shades with light color strokes, the massive, carpet-like, multi-colored mosaic composition “Human being, the work—the purpose of the beauty of existence” Zurab Tsereteli is one of the famous Soviet mosaics in Tbilisi.

The sun lights it up almost all day and is easily seen from various points near the Delisi metro station on Vazha-Pshavela Avenue. With its bold colors, it surely dominates the area’s cityscape.

The cubic shape of the building’s roof has decoration on its two walls, done in 1968-69. The mosaics show floral, ornamental, and even abstract motives, which are widespread in the mosaics of Soviet-era Tbilisi.

The pattern’s complexities include imaginary and real animals, giant symmetric twin rabbits who seem pregnant with small beings, and a human holding a glowing golden sun between them. All these figures dominate the design facing the Avenue. When you look closely, this mosaic has a lot going on.

Laguna Vere Swimming Pool

The now abandoned Laguna Vere Swimming Pool complex’s relief mosaic frieze is another popular mosaic created by Koka Ignatov in 1978. The sun and blue waves perfectly complement the building’s functionality.

Formerly known as Lenin Kosomol Complex, it had several indoor and outdoor pools and a grandstand that could hold 5,500 spectators, making it one of the first complexes of its kind in the Caucasus. It would host both local and international championships and events.

I learned to swim here in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Back then, it was a popular place for youngsters to learn to swim and join underwater rugby or synchronized swimming teams.

Over time, it became unprofitable for the private owner and shut down in 2014, and rumors about its demolition are still circulating.

It’s a bit tricky to see the mosaic in its full scale from the opposite side because an elevated highway blocks the view. It’s safer and best to walk up to it from the sidewalk and admire it from the ground up.

Technical University metro station

The Technical University metro station was initially called Politeknikuri Instituti (Polytechnical Institute) until 2011, named after the former title of the Georgian Technical University.

Opened in 1979, it’s a piece of Soviet Tbilisi’s artistic and architectural heritage and one of my top favorite metro stations. Its vaulted ceiling features geometric rhombus patterns, while its mosaic panels at both ends showcase themes of Art & Sport on the west panel and Labor & Education on the east.

The panorama panel Radish Tordia, Iden Tabidze, and Apolon Kharebava created signifies that Soviet society was for anybody— from the herdsman to farmer, constructor to actor and scientist.

In these mosaics, metaphysical wonders and real scientific knowledge co-exist peacefully, and things set by communism pose alongside versatile liberal ideas: cosmonauts and horses with wings, churches and angels, dolphins, and single-sex pairs all appear equals.

Obviously, these were controversial in the Artists’ Union, and the authors successfully opposed the suggestions to show a pistol, a fist, or a spear to make them more appropriate to the State’s demand.

Moreover, the Smalti stones they were given were insufficient, so the artists themselves produced an additional 28 shades from the nine they had.

On the west panel, a “Queen of Chess” is said to symbolize the legendary Nona Gaprindashvili, Georgia’s world chess champion and the first woman ever to be awarded the FIDE title of Grandmaster!

Fire Station Saburtalo branch

Givi Kervalishvili created the mosaic panels on the building of Emergency Service 112’s Fire Station on Tsintsadze Street in 1977-78 and 1980s.

Two mosaics are done in completely different styles and techniques. The one right at the top of the building facing the street is created with small Smalti pieces, while the second on the side of the building leading to the parking area uses more oversized tiles.

Business Center Mosaic

The former House of Political Education is now a Business Center Mosaic on Aghmashenebeli Ave.

Created by Zurab Tseretelin in 1978, the massive panoramic decoration is another of the most famous Soviet mosaics in Tbilisi, and it is also completely different from the rest.

Initially, the massive 2 x 42-meter mosaic was supposed to feature Konstantin Makharadze’s work of Lenin, Red Army soldiers, and a Soviet worker pointing the way ahead to suit the building’s function.

Ultimately, Tsereteli’s extreme abstract piece with numerous patterns in changing colors was chosen instead. During the day, the sun’s rays play strong with shadows and lights on it.

Now a residential house courtyard in Didube

I found this Soviet mosaic in surprisingly good shape and condition. Unfortunately, the author and the year are unknown, but as my best friend told me, it was part of the factory her father was in charge of.

She said the factory produced various goods, but its main focus was coffee and food supplements. However, the mosaic itself has an agricultural theme.

Former Railway Depot near Samgori metro

Another massive panorama mosaic frieze adorns the former railway depot on Kakheti Highway near the Samgori metro station (upper exit).

Created by Malkhaz Gorgadze in 1982, the mosaic has a relief structure with figures with shapes rather than being shown as flat items.

I assume the mosaic goes on all sides, but I have only seen three visible from the street. The sun takes center stage, surrounded by a rocket, waves, a star, a hot air balloon, houses, etc.

Being next to the highway, the mosaic accumulates dust and needs deep cleaning, as the colors are not as vivid as they should be.

Expo Georgia

The ornamental panels on the Exhibition of the Successes of the Georgian Economy or VDNKH Exhibition Center were supposed to represent the evolution of Soviet Georgia’s scientific and technological advances.

The mosaics, collectively called the “Dreams of the Communists,” depict progress and success, with science and technology as the main focus.

Leonardo Shengelia’s mosaic of Pavilion No. 8 represents the proficiency of a Soviet man and woman over scientific achievements.

In contrast, Guram Kalandadze’s curved mosaic on Pavilion No. 3 concentrates on the power of industry, with a Soviet woman dominating the scene with its prominent size, bringing along all that is good, from new developments to the sun itself. 

Leonidze Park fountain

Soviet mosaics in Tbilisi beautified fountains, plant pots, and other aspects of public spaces besides massive industrial walls and public buildings.

One of my favorite fountain mosaics is at Leonidze Park, created by Zurab Tsereteli in the 1970s. This colorful mosaic in bright blues, greens, yellows, and oranges resembles waves and creates an illusion of colorful water flowing when the fountain is on during warm spring and summer days.

Ortachala mosaic

This free-standing, decorative panel has a hunting scene in the Ortachala neighborhood adjoining Abanotubani and the Old Town.

Created by Kukuri Tsereteli in 1966, the mosaic was influenced by Shota Rustaveli’s epic poem The Knight in the Panther Skin.

It is well-preserved but does need a bit of cleaning from the dust accumulated from the emissions.

Sokhumi State University

Located on Ana Politkovskaia Street, current Sokhumi State University, was an Institute of Machine Engineering.

The two mosaics, the author and date of which are unknown, on the University’s second building show the institute’s function, with the corresponding mosaics of machine engineering in agriculture and other fields.

Everything in the mosaics curves, bends, and flows, from the lawn from which the curling vines rise to the outlines of the snow-topped mountains in the background and even the rears of the mechanics.

The figures have plain, angular faces and an upright pose and appear more cartoonish, unlike many other human depictions in the mosaics.

When I looked at one of them, I thought its bottom lines were missing, but it’s actually overpainted!

Fence of former Sewing Factory

Much of this mosaic is gone already, and only the part showing three men remains on Lech Kachinski Street near 300 Aragveli metro station.

As far as I remember, it used to have a map (of the Soviet Union, I assume) done in various red color shades in front of these three men.

The author and date are unknown, and I couldn’t find the information on the sewing factory either.

Other memorabilia of Soviet Tbilisi – signs and bas-reliefs

While mosaics are somewhat easy to spot, the other Soviet memorabilia that lingers in the city is unnoticeable to an untrained eye if you don’t know where to look.

This section lists some interesting spots and finds I usually stumble upon while wandering different Tbilisi neighborhoods and streets.

Fabrika Tbilisi’s bas-relief

Fabrika Tbilisi, a former Soviet sewing factory turned into a multipurpose venue encompassing a hostel, restaurants, cafes, shops, and a co-working space, has a beautiful bas-relief at its entrance from Ninoshvili Street.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t find much information about the author or the date. It’s a beautiful piece with a woman in the center surrounded by various cultural, social, and everyday scenes. Some even say it shows the astrology signs, but I couldn’t verify it.

Nevertheless, I am sure you’ll drop by Fabrika at some point during your trip to Tbilisi, so make sure you look up and admire this beauty.

Bas-relief in Sasadilo at Zeche

Zeche is a newish restaurant in Tbilisi with a notable design and concept. It is located in a former tobacco factory canteen at Tamar Mepe Avenue. The complex incorporates a cocktail bar, Brouge, and two eateries: Sasadilo (meaning a diner or canteen in Georgian) and a new branch of Tamtaki.

Many design elements have been restored; the Soviet-era bas-relief, featuring various cultural themes, is the highlight and obviously my favorite.

The venue has the soft and natural look of a modernized version of Sasadilos, which once dotted the Tbilisi cityscape. The menu offers iconic canteen meals – hearty, homemade comfort food – but with a balanced mix of Georgian, Asian, and Mediterranean flavors.

Soviet-era ad sign on top of a residential house

I am sure those who live here have walked past this building a block away from Delisi Metro but might never have noticed the Soviet-era ad on top of it. I myself saw it a few months ago!

The ad says, “Use the Services of Savings Banks,” in Georgian and Russian. Surprisingly, the letters are well preserved but on the verge of disrepair.

I wish they were as maintained and illuminated by neon lights as I’ve seen similar signs and ads in Warsaw, Katowice, and Madrid.

Various plates inside and outside of residential blocks

Some of the streets still have old name plates on them; several buildings still preserve plates for multiple services to be called if the building had any issue with plumbing, electricity, cleaning, etc.

Even today, a few dozen houses still preserve apartment directories inside the entrance halls, listing the residents’ surnames, initials, and apartment numbers.

I couldn’t find any information on why, and my logical explanation is that these plates were transparent and functional, so everyone would know where one lived. I even found one building in the Saburtalo neighborhood with rules for residents placed outside next to the entrance door (pictured below).

The regulations listed include paying monthly rent, hanging laundry on the balcony is forbidden, keeping it clean and respecting the cleaner’s work, not littering storage units in the attic, using water economically, and checking gas and electronics before leaving the apartment.

Hammer and sickle on top of an entrance door

The iconic symbol of the Soviet Union—Hammer and Sickle—appeared on the flags of most communist parties worldwide and was placed on buildings and mosaics worldwide. However, as part of the de-sovietization process, it has been chiefly erased around the country.

Despite that, I know of two places that still have them on—one is the entrance door of a residential house at Tamar Mepe Avenue, near Deserter Bazar and the Station Square metro stop.

Soviet signs of shops 

Besides the Hammer and Sickle, Tamar Mepe Avenue is also home to a few remnants of the Soviet signs for shops, including one for the textile shop (at N17) that still operates and one for a gift shop (at N17)  that is now an office.

The signs don’t say the shop’s name, just a general term ‘textiles’ and ‘gifts’, both in Georgian and Russian. The aesthetics are similar, with a slight difference in the font’s weight and the background shapes.

Soviet Cable Cars

During the Soviet period, cable cars were essential to Tbilisi’s public transport system, designed to help citizens navigate the city’s hills and rough terrain efficiently.

Many of these original lines have been abandoned since the collapse of the Union, but some have been restored to meet the same needs and serve as tourist attractions.

The Rustaveli-Mtatsminda cable car, officially reopened in autumn 2024, connects the city center with Mtatsminda Park with modern gondolas after 30 years of disuse.

In contrast, Vake-Kus Tba (Turtle Lake) and Maghlivi-Baghebi Dormitory feature Soviet-era blue cabins, which bring back the picture and the feeling of a bygone era.

Meanwhile, several abandoned Soviet cable cars, especially the Samgori-Vazisubani one, which has had a rusting car hanging on the rope for at least 30 years, still stand as eerie reminders of Tbilisi’s past.

Some leftover stations in other areas, such as near Lisi Lake, stand frozen in time with their crumbling and silent stations.

Further Reading: Check out my Tbilisi transport guide for how to use cable cars in Tbilisi.

The so-called Batman (non-existent)

Although this decorative art no longer exists, I decided to include it because it is an iconic piece that is too interesting not to get a mention.

Nicknamed “Tbilisi Batman,” Zurab Tsereteli created this bas-relief of Industrial-Pedagogical Technical Technicum (college).

Constructed in 1978 by architect Nikoloz Lasareishvili, the Technical College had a central block, an auditorium (bas-relief was adorning this building), industrial workshops, and a student dormitory.

Since the collapse of the USSR, most of the buildings are still occupied by IDPs. As you can see from the photo I took in 2018, I was late in documenting the complete picture of “Batman,” as people were removing parts of it and most likely selling it in the junk yards.

Soviet bunker in Tbilisi

Soviet mosaics, bas-reliefs, and brutalist architecture are not the only ones that define the Soviet past. Tbilisi hides around 482 Soviet bunkers underground as a remnant of Cold War paranoia to safeguard residents from potential nuclear attacks.

Bunkers like these aren’t unique to Tbilisi; you’ll find them across many post-Soviet countries. One of the most striking examples I’ve encountered is in Nowa Huta, Krakow’s Soviet-era utopian neighborhood, where underground shelters have also been repurposed into museums.

Most of the Soviet bunkers in Tbilisi are abandoned, forgotten, and often filled with trash. However, a few years ago, one of these bunkers in the Nadzaladevi district was legally opened to the public, offering a rare glimpse inside.

Want to know more? Check out my detailed post on bunkers in Tbilisi and how to visit the city’s first legal bunker. Alternatively, book directly on GetYourGuide.

Tbilisi metro stations

Among other post-Soviet capitals, like Moscow or Tashkent, Tbilisi’s metro stations are simple and modest but still worth checking out for their unique designs and bas-reliefs.

Opened in 1966, the Tbilisi Metro was the fourth metro system in the Soviet Union, following Moscow, St. Petersburg, and Kyiv. Today, it operates on two lines, covers 27.3 kilometers, and has 23 stations.

Like other metro systems built during the Soviet era, it was designed to be both a practical transportation solution and reflect Soviet aesthetics. They also served as shelters in case of attacks, which explains why many of its stations are incredibly deep underground.

Some Tbilisi metro stations still showcase impressive design elements, including monumental columns, bas-reliefs, and mosaics. Stations like 300 Aragveli, Technical University, Grmaghele, Samgori, and Station Square stand out with elaborate ornamental reliefs, while others lean towards a more minimalist style.

Over the years, some stations have been renovated, swapping Soviet memorabilia for modern designs, but several remain largely untouched.

Stalin Underground Printing House

This isn’t technically a Soviet-era museum, but I include it in my Soviet posts—because it’s where everything began. 

Before Stalin became the face of the USSR, he was sneaking down the tunnel in Tbilisi to run an illegal printing house that spread revolutionary ideas across the Russian Empire, Caucasus, and Europe. 

From 1903, this house printed up to 45,000 leaflets, newspapers, and pamphlets—every day—in three languages until it was discovered during a police raid in 1906. 

Today, you can visit the museum, see archival newspapers and photos, discover the layout of the secret underground printing house, and look at a rusting press. Check out my detailed post on how to visit and what to expect.

Soviet mosaics near Tbilisi

Kojori Pioneer Camp

The former summer Pioneer Youth Camp in Kojori is now a residential building that will soon be demolished.

As locals told me during my visit, sadly, they don’t know when and don’t even have an alternative offer from the government.

Some of these Soviet mosaics are well-preserved on three pretty large buildings. They show youth in typical uniforms: brown skirts or shorts, white shirts, and red scarves.

Soviet-related resources for further reading/listening

CCCP: Cosmic Communist Constructions Photographed” by Frédéric Chaubin

This visually stunning book showcases 90 Soviet-era buildings constructed between 1970 and 1990, highlighting their futuristic and often surreal designs. From brutalist concrete structures to sci-fi-inspired government buildings, Chaubin’s photography captures the ambition and eccentricity of late Soviet architecture. Order on Amazon.

Reimagining Soviet Georgia Podcast

This podcast series, produced by a multigenerational, multilingual collective based in Tbilisi, is my recent discovery. It aims to reexamine and reinterpret the history of Soviet Georgia. It features critical research, oral histories, and discussions, offering diverse perspectives on the country’s past. ​Listen on Spotify.

Ajam Podcast #5: Urbanism & Informality in Post-Soviet Tbilisi

This episode delves into the transformation of Tbilisi from a medieval walled city to its current state, discussing its evolution through Tsarist, Soviet, and post-Soviet periods. The conversation highlights how these historical phases have shaped the city’s urban landscape and architecture. Listen here.

Georgian and Soviet:  Entitled Nationhood and the Specter of Stalin in the Caucasus by Claire P. Kaiser

The book Georgian and Soviet examines the unique position of Soviet Georgia, which, following the USSR’s nation-building template, also benefited from Stalin’s Georgian heritage. The author explores how this influenced the republic’s architecture and cultural development. Order on Amazon or watch the Book Talk on YouTube.

Moscow: Art for Architecture – Soviet Mosaics from 1935 to 1990 by James Hill, Anna Petrova, and Evgeniya Kudelina​

This book offers a comprehensive collection of 140 chronologically organized Soviet-era mosaics in Moscow. It explores various styles—Art Deco, Socialist Realism, Modernism, and Postmodernism—and features works by renowned artists alongside lesser-known creators.

The volume provides insights into the evolution of Soviet art as reflected in Moscow’s architectural adornments. Order on Amazon.

Mosaics of Soviet Period in Georgia by Nini Palavandishvili (Available in bookstores in Georgia)

This book is the first dedicated collection of Soviet-era mosaics in Georgia, showcasing works from the late 1960s to the 1980s. It highlights the artistic diversity of these monumental-decorative mosaics, from their themes and materials to their placement in urban and rural landscapes.

Life in Soviet Georgia (Available in bookstores in Georgia)

This collection of 70 personal stories offers a profoundly human perspective on life in Soviet Georgia, told by 70 authors who lived through it. Each story represents a year of the USSR’s existence, capturing moments of joy, fear, resilience, and absurdity in a system built on contradictions.