By Kostas Siafakas

06 March 2020

Reflections on the latest exhibition of Nikos Moschos

Whenever I see Nikos, he is calm, almost a little melancholic. He speaks softly, yet behind him simmers the echo of his works. I suspect this serenity is the product of his creative state—a condition of heightened alertness, as he must capture the instantaneous: the sudden motion, the acceleration, the speed of launch, and the cacophony of simultaneous falls, throws, and cries—and crystallize it all on the surface of art.

Stillness nests on the horizon of storms, and true madness springs from reason. In the same way, within a corner of his intricate compositions, somewhere in the peculiar crowding of faces, bodies, and machines, lies a neutral field—a background of painterly unity—that will become fully visible once everything settles into place after the outburst of celebratory fury.

Imagine poet Miltos Sachtouris reading a Marvel comic on a bench in Fokionos Negri. He is restless yet calm (is that even possible?), and around him rise smoke and visions. Painting is a place of serenity, a refuge for contemplation, poetry silent yet full of signs. And yet, at times, it goes wild, protests, bristles, revealing all the audacity of Drawing—equal in measure to the freedom and solitude of the Poet.

Everyday life is strange, provocative, and, at its core, incomprehensible. Time is crushing, merciless. These are the thoughts that come to me when I consider Moschos—whether standing before his remarkable works or recalling them. In the end, I concede: the polished realism of his figures has surrendered to the painter’s passion and dread in the face of the world’s resounding upheavals and the sudden nullifications of existence, becoming a kind of expressionism. Like a nightingale that, under the pressure of circumstance, caws like a vulture.

The exhibition Conditions of Adaptation by Nikos Moschos at Zoumboulakis Gallery runs from 13 February to 7 March 2020.