Anestis Ioannou’s distinctive artistic language emerges from an intimate dialogue with the contemporary urban environment. His surfaces carry traces of everyday life, functioning as tactile archives of movement, memory, and wear. Onto these textured grounds, he constructs fragile, in-between spaces where the boundaries between the real and the imaginary remain fluid.
In his art the city functions as both a physical landscape and an emotional archive—a place where memory, identity, and everyday gestures of care intertwine. Working with materials that bear traces of urban life, from denim to neon and marble fragments, they construct fragile, transitional worlds inhabited by figures that hover between presence and absence.
Within these environments, his figures appear as outlines or spectral presences—bodies in transition, neither fully formed nor fully absent. Their theatrical quality suggests characters awaiting their cue, inviting viewers into a narrative space that is intentionally unfinished. Rather than offering fixed identities, Ioannou’s painterly approach embraces ambiguity, allowing the human form to dissolve into its surroundings.
Anestis Ioannou (b.1992) is a visual artist who lives and works in Athens. He holds a Master’s Degree (MFA) from LUCA School of Arts, Brussels (2018). In 2020, he was awarded the ARTWORKS fellowship, supported by Stavros Niarchos Foundation. In 2025, he participated in the EMST (National Museum of Contemporary Art, Athens) Mentorship Program. His work has been exhibited in Greece, Belgium, the Netherlands, Croatia, Serbia, France, Germany, and Austria. His work is part of the collection of the Bank of Greece, as well as of many private collections in Europe.
In an interview with Greek News Agenda*, Anestis Ioannou reflects on heterotopias where real and imaginary meet, identities in flux, human figures suspended between presence and absence and objects carrying memories and collective narratives.
Your works refer directly to the contemporary urban environment, something that largely determines the materials you use (denim canvases, neon lights, concrete). What is it that drives you to make the city a point of reference in your work?
For me, the city is not just a backdrop but the place where my way of seeing was formed. It is a living body, an archive of fragments, palimpsests, and silences that carry memories. Growing up in the center of Athens, I experienced the urban environment through skateboarding, which taught me to see every sidewalk or square as a field of action and freedom. This experience follows me in my work. The city is always in flux, in a constant state of transition, and that is what I am interested in capturing.
I use materials that carry traces, energy, and memory from everyday life: denim instead of canvas, pieces of marble, or neon lights. Fragments of a reality that bear history, wear, and life. Denim in particular—often the surface I paint on—functions for me as a bridge between the personal and the collective. It is industrial yet familiar, connected with labor, youth culture, and the continuous movement of the city.
The spaces I create are makeshift, fragile, often undefined, but they express a search for something concrete—an anxiety for clarity in a fluid world. In them, the real and the imaginary coexist, as in a heterotopia. My figures move within this uncertain landscape like theatrical characters waiting for the action to begin. Within this environment, potted plants often appear—cuttings, containers holding signs of life, found on balconies, courtyards, or rooftops. They represent everyday gestures of care within the urban chaos.
So the city is not simply the backdrop but the very material and narrative field of my work. It is the point of reference not because I want to “depict” it, but because it is the place where the material meets the immaterial, where historical memory intersects with personal storytelling, where the need for roots meets the desire to escape. In this unstable condition I find my most essential raw material.
A fragile, transient, fleeting universe is imprinted in your works. What role does the human figure play in this?
The human figure in my work is never complete; it is more like an outline, with just a few traces of presence. These are empty bodies in transition, inhabiting in-between places—present and absent at the same time—hovering between being characters and becoming part of the environment. They are empty bodies in passage, dwelling in liminal spaces, present and absent simultaneously, suspended between being characters and places.
For me, this resembles the fragility of identity today: a fluid identity in the urban world that constantly shifts and changes, never fully settling. Like theatrical characters awaiting their cue to step onto the stage, my figures stand in a state of suspension.
In some works, the forms look almost as if they are wearing masks, as if they are performing a role. I try to create a situation where these presences are almost aware of the viewer’s gaze. They are staged encounters, like film stills or fragments of a novel.
These are forms that can dissolve into the environment or re-emerge from it. For me, the figure is not a fixed subject but a temporary narrative. And the absence within the body is not a lack but a possibility: to transform, to disappear, or to take flight. It is a promise that something may occur.
Where does your art meet that of Yiannis Tsarouchis?
My connection to Tsarouchis is not one of imitation but of dialogue. I meet him mainly through theatricality and the power of transformation. In his work I see an artist who united history with myth, the everyday with the allegorical, real space with painted space. What moves me is his ability to respond to the wounds and needs of his time through painting or stage design—a place where the real and the imaginary interpenetrate.
In my work, the idea of a stage—empty or ready to be filled—is crucial. Just as Tsarouchis brought Euripides’ Trojan Women to life in a parking lot in Athens, I also try to transport the viewer to an in-between space, a place both every day and dreamlike. There my figures seek community and meaning, just as the Birds—which Tsarouchis costumed and staged—searched for a world beyond their own.
I follow a narrative approach in the way I construct a canvas. For me, narrative does not simply mean telling a story; it means creating a space where stories can resonate, leaving room for the viewer to imagine the rest.
You have exhibited abroad many times. In which countries would you say the public is most familiar with contemporary art? What is your view of the Greek public?
My experience abroad has brought me into contact with audiences that already have a tradition of approaching contemporary art not as something obscure but almost as part of daily life. In Belgium, the Netherlands, or France, for example, you encounter an audience that has learned to see contemporary art as a component of public life—different in each country, yet always a familiar language. Their interaction with museums, institutions, and education creates an open framework for reception.
In Greece, the relationship with contemporary art is more contradictory. There is hesitation, but also a genuine curiosity. I often meet people who approach the work through personal stories and emotion, without feeling they need to know the “right way” to interpret it. Despite the lack of institutional support, I see an audience that is eager to participate. And that eagerness can sometimes be more powerful than a formal familiarity because it opens space for real dialogue.
What are the challenges for a young artist in Greece today?
The challenges for a young artist in Greece are often tied to a sense of constant uncertainty due to the lack of stable support, limited institutional infrastructure, and a small market. Yet within this instability lies a force that pushes you to work inventively, rely on community, and seek collaborations and initiatives outside conventional institutional boundaries.
In recent years independent spaces, exhibitions, and initiatives have emerged, showing that the scene is vibrant and restless. In this fluidity, artists often find ways to express themselves beyond established frameworks. At the same time, private initiatives have begun to play an increasingly significant role, frequently filling the gaps left by the state.
I also consider it important that EMST has been operating more dynamically in recent years. It is creating an initial network between Greek artists and the international art world, while also inviting the Greek public to engage more with contemporary art. It is a process in progress, certainly in need of further support, but a substantial effort that is gradually changing the landscape.
Greece is both difficult and fertile. The difficulty pushes you to seek new ways, and the fertility lies in the vitality of the artists themselves, who create the conditions for their work to be heard.
*Interview by Dora Trogadi
Photos: Courtesy of the artist and Crux Gallery
Artist’s photo by Valentina Tsaga
