Nikos Angelidis’ painting unfolds in time rather than at first glance. Built with discipline, precision, and an unwavering attention to detail, his images invite slow looking, rewarding the viewer with a world where realism is pushed to its limits until it quietly transforms into the dreamlike. Within carefully controlled compositions, familiar interiors, objects, animals, and landscapes acquire an inner life of their own, suspended in a state of lucid stillness. What appears orderly and serene is subtly unsettled by paradox, enigma, and a restrained sense of humor, opening fissures through which imagination and memory emerge.
Nikos Angelidis was born in Athens in 1957. From 1977 to 1982, he studied Painting at the Athens School of Fine Arts under P. Tetsis. During that period, at the same school, he attended courses in icon painting and fresco. He worked as an art teacher in Secondary Education for six years, until he decided to devote himself entirely to painting. In 1987 he presented his work for the first time in a group exhibition at the Nees Morfes Gallery. Since then he has had eleven solo shows and has participated in numerous group shows. He lives and works in Athens.
In an interview with Greek News Agenda*, Angelidis speaks about his meticulous creative process, the deliberate coexistence of realism and dream, and the role of objects and animals as carriers of memory, allegory, and personal experience. The artist offers insight into a practice that does not seek to mirror reality, but to propose another way of seeing it—patient, contemplative, and quietly enchanted.
Your works give the impression of being created with absolute control, discipline, and a strong emphasis on detail and flawlessness. How does your creative process develop in order to achieve this result?
An image always comes first—something that appears in my mind and could be described as “inspiration,” meaning the subject and composition of the work that must be realized. I immediately proceed to a brief, small sketch, sometimes accompanied by written notes so the idea is not lost. This is followed by a second, larger and more precise drawing, which is then enlarged and transferred onto the canvas. At the same time, I study the individual elements that will be used in the work: studies of human figures, objects, plants, or animals, as well as the viewing angles from which they will be depicted. Finally comes the chromatic completion on the canvas, painting the work in sections and with meticulous insistence on detail.
An intensified realism coexists harmoniously with a dreamlike element in your work. What purpose does this coexistence serve?
The purpose is to surprise the viewer—an impressive result produced by the coexistence of opposing elements. In this way, the dreamlike illusion is supported by strongly realistic representational details that attempt to reassure the viewer, yet are ultimately undone by the overall image, as in the end the dream prevails.
What role do subversion, paradox, humor, and the enigmatic play in your practice?
It is a game with the viewer. I like to provoke questions. I ask them not to stop at aesthetic pleasure alone, but at the same time to reflect, to offer their own interpretations of the riddles, or to continue wondering about them.
Could you speak about the role of objects and animals in your work?
The objects that surround us exert an influence on us, to a greater or lesser degree. Some, in fact, have such a strong impact that they acquire a symbolic character. They trigger memories, awaken emotions, and affect us so deeply that I would describe them as “magical.” A classic example is children’s toys, and especially dolls. I choose to paint such objects—what I call “personal” objects—things I have lived with in the past or that still exist around me and inspire me.
As for animals, if we turn to Aesop, La Fontaine, or Orwell, we see that animals provide an ideal framework for humans to engage in social critique through metaphor and allegory. Within this context, I use them as well, as visual allegories that, in some works, also introduce an element of humor.
A defining characteristic of your work is the sense of magic, sobriety, order, and the dreamlike stillness of things. How does this way of seeing enter into dialogue with a world that moves at very different rhythms?
Precisely because the world moves at intense and exhausting speeds, there is a need for a stable, sober space—one to which a person can retreat and reflect. It is a necessary framework for turning inward. Essentially, this is the other side of the same coin, the side I naturally prefer, delve into, and attempt, in my own way, to bring to light.
*Interview by Dora Trogadi
