Interview by Zeta Tzioti

Nikos Moschos, sensitive to contemporary socio-political structures and inequalities, approaches his artistic practice in a sarcastic yet allegorical way. In his works, human flesh is distorted; machines, cars, musical instruments, and ruins of newly built structures are crushed.

The mixture of disparate elements and the borderline deconstruction of forms compose the image of his work. The study of the subject matter and the use of preliminary sketches are evident and absolutely necessary due to the density of his visual language. Elements from comics, mythology, religion, antiquity, the Renaissance, modernism, and other lived experiences are his sources of inspiration.

We met the artist in his studio in Neos Kosmos, where he finds inspiration and creates, and we talked extensively.

– How much did your professors at the Athens School of Fine Arts influence your work? What do you feel you took from them?
– The shaping of an artist begins from the moment they start perceiving the world. It takes form through stimuli—some that attract and others that repel. Both categories influence equally, regardless of the fact that we usually focus on the ones we identify with. I therefore feel that my apprenticeship began long before the School, in an environment that, thanks to my father, favored engagement with painting.

At the School, I joined the studio of Botsoglou, an artist who himself loves painting and its history. This further deepened my exploration of formal issues, but during my studies, it also introduced strong doses of doubt about the narrative foundation I wanted to build. In time, of course, things became clearer, as it was evident that we could respect certain common values but from different perspectives.

– Do you think you were lucky at the beginning of your career?
– From my early years at the School, my daily life was structured around painting. I worked relentlessly, as I do now.

In my third year, Manos Stefanidis, then the director of the Frissiras Museum, visited the mid-term exhibition. Apparently, he noticed my works, and a few days later, Frissiras himself came to my house and bought some.

Later, I was told that Angelos Delivorias had been impressed by the works when he saw them at the Frissiras Museum. Some time afterward, he sent me a letter commissioning a portrait of Antonis Benakis for the then-new wing of the Benaki Museum on Pireos Street.

These two events were decisive, as they drew the attention of several people to my work before I even graduated. They could certainly be described as favorable circumstances, and I say this because there are and have been excellent artists whose work never reached the right eyes. Nevertheless, I never felt that anything was handed to me.

– Your technique is distinctive. Tell us about it.
– Usually, each work is shaped by its generative cause, which also serves as a reason for study and several preparatory sketches. The stories I weave in my mind always evolve in a time and place that allude to something specific but ultimately are not.

The elements that assemble the image may be recognizable but also quite abstract, representing situations in constant transition—a central axis in my work. I constantly build and destroy until I reach the point I consider satisfactory. Throughout the process, I try to preserve the vitality of the first conception.

– Are fear and black humor sources of inspiration for you?
– Fear and its derivatives have been and continue to be a source of inspiration not only for me but also for many other artists, consciously or unconsciously. In my case, it is an attempt to further analyze and overcome my obsessions. By placing them as protagonists in scenes of tension and upheaval, I wish to drain every living cell of them so that my work becomes an allegorical memory.

– Looking at your works, we see the strong influence of comics and B-movies. How would you comment on that?
– I was a reader of comics in my childhood and even attempted to create my own. I suppose, in hindsight, that my inclination toward densely populated painting, with intense dynamism like that of Tintoretto or Beckmann, was perhaps reinforced by my interest in comics, as both present intense compositional challenges.

As for B-movies, they always attracted me without me knowing why. Gradually, I began to realize that within them, a ridiculous, non-existent threat could take on epic proportions—like a giant ant or a blob swallowing everyone in its path. Aliens, a shark, or a gang of bloodthirsty, sexually insatiable amazons become daring expressions of fear and hidden sexual urges.

The idea had intrigued me for some time, and it began in 2014 with my work Me vs The Blob – A Safe Fight, which I presented in Barcelona that same year. One could see in all this a new mythology—one born from the culture of the post-industrial or contemporary human who views the unknown through a neo-romantic lens. Adopting elements of this fiction helped me expand not only the conceptual but also the formal boundaries of my work.

– Are your works autobiographical?
– I treat my work as a diary in which I record the course of my thoughts and feelings. It is a collection of associations that start from reality and, through mental and expressive leaps, return to it.

The elements I use are initially unrelated—a newspaper article, my readings, films, personal photographs, etc., are my raw materials. Then I weave the composition, shaping images that reflect the thoughts and emotions my daily life evokes.

– Do you believe an artist is more productive during difficult periods in their life?
– It always depends on their temperament. In general, difficult phases give us food for thought and make us wiser. Some have the composure and ability to create in the midst of a storm, while others do so after it has passed.

In the first case, the artist—regardless of their intentions—will be influenced by their emotional fluctuations, which will inevitably be recorded in their medium.

– Why do you use long descriptive titles for some of your paintings?
– My relationship with titling has gone through various stages, influenced by restrictions I had adopted for a long time regarding the role of the work.

I hesitated to provide too much information, fearing I might bind the work in the eyes of the viewer. Many of my works up to 2013 have single-word titles or are untitled. Since 2013, however, I have been naming each work in ways that bring me closer to its source of conception, making me feel even more connected to it.

– Tell us about the art fairs you have participated in abroad.
– Presentations abroad, apart from commercial benefits, are a good opportunity for dialogue, comparison, and the promotion of ideas. I now consider it essential to give one’s artistic imprint beyond national borders and be judged in a broader context.

In recent years, apart from participating in group exhibitions abroad, I have also had two solo presentations at SWAB in Barcelona. The charm of this fair is that it is not static—it is in constant transformation and gives artists space to experiment both before and during the event. This results in constantly attracting a new audience while keeping collectors’ interest alive year after year.

– Do you think art is still an investment nowadays?
– The phrase “investment in art” has multiple interpretations. From an economic standpoint, it is clear that sales have decreased globally. The number of major collectors has shrunk, and many are reselling large parts of their collections.

In Greece, there is also a strong shift toward the secondary market, and it is no longer at all paradoxical that investment has become synonymous with the ability to buy at a low price. This is the result of a closed domestic market that developed in the last thirty years or so, with inflated values that were bound to deflate as they had no standing outside Greece. Online information also played a decisive role here.

On the other hand, it is hopeful that a new class of collectors is emerging, one that buys less massively but more selectively—something I find entirely healthy.

Putting aside the financial dimension, the most important investment remains the time and dialogue one has with a work, and this is something anyone can invest in regardless of their financial means.

– Where can someone admire your works?
– In Greece, I could mention the Benaki Museum (Athens), the Antonis and Asia Hadjiioannou Collection (Athens), the Sotiris Felios Collection (Athens), the Vogiatzoglou Gallery (Athens), the Viannos Gallery “Savvas Petrakis,” the Museum of Visual Arts of Heraklion, and other private collections.

Abroad, major collections include the Schirm Collection (Sammlung-Schirm, Berlin), the Bernard Cheong Collection (Singapore), PTE Fine Arts (New York), as well as others in the USA, Norway, UK, Belgium, France, Spain, Dubai, etc.

Online, there is the website www.nikosmoschos.gr where one can find more information about my work as a whole.