Untitled 1989

Editor: Here we have an untitled acrylic painting by Nikias Skapinakis from 1989. It’s a powerful burst of reds and oranges, like looking into the heart of a flame. What leaps out at you when you see this piece? Curator: It feels like controlled chaos, doesn't it? A volcanic eruption of color, yet carefully structured. I think Skapinakis is playing with the tension between raw emotion and deliberate design. Notice how the geometric shapes, for all their jagged edges, create a kind of rhythmic harmony. It's almost musical. Do you get that sense too, or am I just projecting my synesthesia again? Editor: I can definitely see that musicality. It’s like a jazz improvisation—the individual notes seem random, but they come together to form something cohesive. All those shapes, are they purely abstract, or do you see any recognizable forms? Curator: That's the million-dollar question, isn't it? Abstraction always invites interpretation. I see echoes of architectural forms, perhaps cityscapes dissolving into pure feeling. And the layering… that almost feels like memories superimposed on one another, each plane a different moment in time. Perhaps this captures the memories that time and cities collect… what are your impressions of this city vibe? Editor: That resonates. It makes me think of looking at a familiar place in a dream, recognizable yet distorted. Curator: Exactly! The power of abstraction lies in its ability to bypass the literal and tap into something deeper, more primal. To me, Skapinakis isn't just painting shapes; he’s painting feeling. Editor: It’s incredible how the absence of clear representation can be so evocative. Thanks, this helped a lot with grasping the intentions behind the piece! Curator: Anytime. Sometimes the most profound art is the art that demands we bring ourselves to it.