Artist Christophoros Katsadiotis could never have imagined that he would become known throughout the country to people with no connection with art, due to the vandalism of four of his works at Greece’s National Gallery.
This occurred in an exhibition entitled “The Art of the Bizarre”, which aims to open an artistic “conversation” between the biting social criticism of Francisco Goya’s caprichos and a number of contemporary Greek artists who have grappled with the bizarre.
An MP of the far-right Niki (victory) party, which has close ties with top figures of the outlawed neo-Nazi Golden Dawn party, accompanied by an unidentified man, ripped four of the artist’s works off the wall and smashed them onto the floor, on the grounds that they were blasphemous in their depictions of the Virgin Mary and Christ.
The broadly unknown Thessaloniki MP, Nikos Papadopoulos, said he acted of his own accord, but party leader Dimitris Natsios backed him fully, declaring that he “expressed the conscience of the people”.
The National Gallery initially decided to leave the vandalized pictures on the floor for spectators to see the result of extremism, but then it removed them from the ground.
The MP had previously tabled a parliamentary question on the artworks, and he wrote a letter to National Gallery Director Sirago Tsiara complaining about the alleged blasphemy, to which she responded that the National Gallery does not engage in any form of censorship.
The Holy Synod of the powerful Orthodox Church of Greece, which wields significant sway over governments of all stripes as they consider it a strong voting bloc, expressed its “sadness” over the content of the artworks and said it would take up the issue with the government.
The last time the Church clashed with the government was in November, 2016, over the content of the education ministry’s religious studies programme.
Then left-wing SYRIZA PM Alexis Tsipras promptly sacked education minister Nikos Filis, who attempted to introduce comparative religion and curb the exclusively Orthodox dogmatic approach.
All other parliamentary parties condemned the vandalism.
Yet, the violent act has also been seen as a ploy to attract the votes of the religious right.
This was done with clearly intentional deception, when the social media were inundated by a picture by Katsadiotis that was not even in the exhibition. In it, the Virgin Mary was depicted as a tortured woman with a cigarette hanging from her lips and Christ with a skull head.
Katsadiodis says he borrowed the Byzantine type of Mary and Jesus to depict the misery of the human condition, and that it was never intended to be viewed as a religious icon.
Much of the Greek media took the bait and plastered the picture over websites as being in the exhibition, which further fuelled the charges of blasphemy.
Katsadiotis’s art is much more complex, however. Though he has studied Byzantine art with interest and incorporated elements into his work, he identifies much more closely with the Dadaist Movement, the art of the Weimar Republic period, and the Russian avant-garde, as he told tovima.gr in a no-holds-barred interview.
Public domain via Wikimedia Commons
“As part of its institutional role and mission, the National Gallery remains unwaveringly committed to Article 16 of the Constitution of Greece, which unequivocally guarantees the freedom of artistic expression…and to Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights…,” the announcement reads.
How does it feel that a vandalization of your artworks made you known throughout Greece and abroad? That must be a peculiar feeling for an artist.
It is definitely a very peculiar feeling. First of all, never in my life did I expect that my work would be exhibited in the National Gallery. Secondly, I could not imagine my works entering into a “conversation” with those of Goya. How on earth? I was taken aback by the act of violence by these [two] individuals. They [the National Gallery] informed me by telephone and I could not understand what they were talking about. I found it inconceivable that violence of this type was perpetrated on a work with an ostensibly religious subject, and indeed by a person who is supposedly faithful and close to the Church. How could he engage in an act which is alien to the very Word of God? It is nowhere to be found in the New Testament.
The Bible makes clear that God is not in need of defence by human beings. On the contrary, it fervently supports human freedom on all levels, as a cultivated Christian understands, Moreover, Christ does not display indignation anywhere in the Gospels – except as regards riches and hypocrisy toward others. He understands even his enemy, and prays for him.
Christophoros Katsadiotis (1971), Icon Νο 17, 2021, Etching, stitching with thread, metal, 42 × 36 cm, Christophoros Katsadiotis collection, Photo credit: Odysseas Vaharidis
Your four works that were exhibited at the National Gallery and caused an uproar in some quarters were based on Byzantine iconography. What led you to delve into this art, and what is your connection to the aesthetic and theology that it expresses?
When entering a church and seeing the saints depicted in icons, I feel as if they are saying, “Come with us”, otherwise you will be with the “others”, with bad people. Reading the biographies of the saints, when I saw that they were warriors with swords and arms, I began wondering how a warrior who is capable of killing wants to transmit the word of love, peace, and mutual respect.
These two elements seemed to me to be a contradiction, which I expressed in my works in this manner, without intending at all to injure someone else or offend their beliefs. It was a way to express myself. My works are in no way holy icons and they are not designed as objects of worship. Even if I were to say that these are icons intended for worship, the Church rejects that. Icons become objects of worship through a ritual conducted in the church by clergymen. It is not at all that Katsadiotis calls his work sacred and that it is sacred. In olden days, the Church also performed the function of a school and contributed to the country. We must recognize that.
How did the National Gallery select your work? Did the director [Syrago Tsiara] call you?
Her associates called me and proposed that I participate in the exhibition. At first I thought it was a joke. Naturally, I was very glad. They liked my work and proposed that we find a way to collaborate. When they decided to exhibit Goya’s engravings, they conceived of a parallel group exhibition of works by several Greek artists [that would enter into an imaginary “conversation” with the engraved caprichos of Goya, masterpieces of scathing social criticism of late 18th century Spanish society that subjected him to the Spanish Inquisition] entitled “The Art of the Bizarre”, with works that depicted images that are contorted, grotesque, odd or just bizarre. My contribution was four works and an animation of engravings (of which I do many) in which the figures are projected onto a large wall. [The delightful animation, entitled “The After-Midnight Carousel” with engraved fantastical figures moving or dancing in place continues to be on display at the National Gallery, as is his biography, sequentially projected on a television screen along with those of the other artists in alphabetical order. The wires on which the four removed works were hung and the descriptions by their side are still in place at this writing].
I submitted 30 works and they picked the four.
Did these include the Virgin Mary with a cigarette in her mouth holding Jesus with a skull head, which was reproduced by many media outlets?
I think so. It was not exhibited. It was my first work with such a subject, about 12 years ago. Goya displayed biting criticism of human passions, ecclesiastical power, and the highest social classes. When the engravings appeared in 1799, the Church told him to withdraw them and he was subjected to the Spanish Inquisition. He got off the hook because he was a painter at the royal court for three generations of monarchs. Now, here we are 226 years later, and the institution of the Church comes along and raises the same problem.
Christophoros Katsadiotis (1971), Icon Νο 16, 2021, Etching, stitching with thread, metal, 49 × 43.2 cm, Christophoros Katsadiotis collection, Photo credit: Odysseas Vaharidis
Then wouldn’t it seem that a major propaganda scheme was devised by the far-right Niki party around the exhibition, and that the media were unwittingly drawn into the deception that this picture was on display? Where did the media dig up this picture?
These are the bad things about the media. It was on my personal accounts on Facebook and Instagram for the last 15 years. They should have been more careful. I could not have imagined this would happen. Why should we still be so scared? I say I will carry on just being myself.
Given the fact that the public was deceived into believing the work appeared in the National Gallery, do you understand the indignation of certain groups over the grotesque representation of the Church’s two most important sacred figures?
Of course I understand it. But for me these works are poetical. When a smoker has a problem the first thing they do is to smoke some cigarettes to calm down. It is not offensive. I do not see the Virgin Mary and Jesus in this picture. I see humanity. I have no intention of offending Christ or God. I respect the beliefs of everyone, even if they believe in the sun. The symbolism of this picture is a mother foreseeing the death of her son and represents the end of humanity, and that is why she is pensive. It represents our fate in life. The skull represents the fact that death is our fate. Collectively, I believe that the future of every developed civilization is self-destruction. I don’t see something positive, I see things going from bad to worse. I do not like that. I am trying to react in this manner. Everything is sad and black, and I try to express that.
I have been particularly influenced by Dadaism, which attempts to make some order or harmony out of chaos, the art of the Weimar Republic, and Russian avant-garde art.
Christophoros Katsadiotis (1971) St Christopher, 2020, Etching, monotype – colour, 33.5 × 23.8 cm, Christophoros Katsadiotis collection, Photo credit: Odysseas Vaharidis
In your work, have you dealt with social inequalities?
Naturally I have addressed inequalities, because I consider all my works, with the exception of religious subjects, as a sort of reporting on society [Katsadiotis was a journalist for many years] – psychological street reporting. If you go about in central Athens, on a metro or a bus, you see people who from the difficulties of life are disfigured. They have suffered blows. It is this which I try to express. Why do my works feature zoomorphic figures that look weird? Take a walk and see the people around us, how they look as a result of their problems and social inequalities.
People are suffering. My works are for me, therefore – and nobody needs to agree because not all of us compatible with the works we see – a form of criticism. Each of my pictures is a poetical work, because I attempt to depict human suffering.
In that framework, do you include some hope for justice?
There is hope, and we are obliged to have optimism, even though things are very dark, for that will move us forward. This signals evolution. Woe be unto us if we are pessimistic. Even if most things are getting worse, we have a duty to be positive, to look ahead and see how we can improve them.
The social fabric of Greece today seems to be tattered.
This is not a Greek phenomenon. It is global, not just European even. The US Secretary of State [Mark Rubio] appeared on television with a cross on his forehead [of ashes, a symbol of contrition at the start of Lent for Catholics, which Rubio turned into a public display]. They do business on the back of destroyed countries. There is a sick situation all over the planet.
How does this phenomenon express itself in Greece?
Look at how many problems we see around us. We have become divided once again [over the National Gallery Exhibition] with the pretext of religion, which instead of uniting us divides us. We are talking about visual art [eikastiko in Greek]. The verb eikazo means I reckon. The work of the artist is to express what he or she reckons, whether in painting, books, or music. The point is not for us to like all songs or all pictures. Each artist has a different background, different influences, and different life experiences.
You have said that when you work you don’t at first think of exhibiting, but rather of your need to communicate and express yourself. How do you decide when a cycle of work is complete and ready to exhibit?
All of the works selected have a common atmosphere, a common denominator, a common aesthetic, When I complete 30-40 works I am ready to cover the walls of a gallery. Just as my voice, it is always a group of works of Christophoros. If I write a text, it has my writing signature – you understand that it wasn’t written by somebody else. We recognize that a painting is by Picasso without having to read it at first. We recognize a Van Gogh painting not because he cut off his ear and we know his history, but because our brain recognises the current of its expression, I happens unconsciously.
Christophoros Katsadiotis (1971),Icon Νo 1, 2021, Etching, stitching with thread, metal, 48.5 × 43.3 cm, Christophoros Katsadiotis collection, Photo credit: Odysseas VaharidisYou began your course as an artist relatively late, after working as a journalist. How did you take such a big decision to change your life course?
I was admitted to the School of Fine Arts (University of Thessaloniki) when I was 37-years-old. Everything can be chalked up to circumstances. We think that we decide, but we follow events. I don’t say this in a passive sense, that we sit around waiting for an event to occur. You have to go out in the street for something to happen. If you are passive and expect something it will never happen. It is an existential restlessness that guides you in a certain direction, Where are we? Where are we going? Why were we born in this family? Death.Why do things develop as they do? The concepts of happiness, success, sorrow, beauty and knowledge. There are a myriad of social problems, and either you are active or you are not. I cannot but be active. I live in a society and am influenced by what is going on around me. I want to depict these things.
The figures in your works comprise a unique world of your own, with the distinctly imaginary alongside the natural elements of the phenomenal, physical world. How do you combine the two?
It happens by studying art history and various artistic currents, which are in their time influenced by the social setting. One shapes the other. The needs of human beings create a corresponding expression. When I entered the School of Fine Arts at that age I did not have the outlook of just wanting to have a good time. My objective was solely to study and dedicate myself to art. I had first exhibited works in 1999, before studying art at university, at Christina Preka’s Aigokeros [Capricorn] Gallery in Kolonaki [where Katsadiotis later exhibited at the Zoumboulakis Gallery, arguably Greece’s most prestigious].
Would it be off base for one to discern an influence of Dadaism on your work?
Not at all. Dadaism and German Expressionism. Over the last decade, I destroy my gravures and cut them into little pieces and create a new synthesis based on an older engraving. I sew together every bit of paper with thread of the same color and place it on the engraving underneath. The viewer cannot at all discern the sewing. This process has become an experiential act by now. I insert my insecurity into my art and sew it with thread and create a body. I need to express the existential and experiential through an act intended to affirm it so as not to destroy it.
