Nikos Lagos shares the Preparation Diary of his new exhibition “RAW”

“The works come out more alive and more colorful than the previous Skulls@Hearts series, which was more closed and one-dimensional. I see the difference in myself and in the work.”

In his new body of work, Nikos Lagos returns to painting as a field of direct, almost raw recording of thoughts, emotions, and experiences. Works mainly from the last two years (2024–2025) compose a dense visual universe, where words, symbols, numbers, and images coexist in an intensity that does not seek explanation, but experiential reception.

As Christoforos Marinos notes in his text for the exhibition, Nikos Lagos’ painting moves across multiple dimensions of space and time, beyond logical interpretation. Houses, hearts, stairs, antennas, clouds, skulls, skeletons, and words -in Greek and English-fill the pictorial space, sometimes functioning autonomously and at other times forming poetic or enigmatic phrases. References to songs, recurring motifs, and playful structures point to a world that seems to be simultaneously constructed and deconstructed.

The “rawness” of the title does not refer only to personal impasses, but also to the social and economic vertigo of our times. Yet within this seemingly chaotic universe, small islands of tenderness, humor, and self-irony emerge -elements that consistently run through his work.

With this new body of work, Nikos Lagos measures his freedoms, defends an innocent gaze toward painting, and states- or rather concludes with surprise-“we are all the same person.”

Nikos Lagos shares the Preparation Diary of his new exhibition “RAW,” hosted at Skoufa Gallery:

Spring 2024
I start working again after a long pause. For about a year and a half, I had been out of the studio. It had been a long time since I’d gone in, and it took me months to warm up and find a proper rhythm. It’s not that I wasn’t painting at all. I just didn’t trust what I was doing, and it wouldn’t move forward on its own. The first works came out with difficulty. A lot of labor and detail. Good works, but without gesture. As if I was careful to the point of immobility. Two large works went to a group show in Karlsruhe. That helped. It was a sign that something was moving again.

Summer 2024
I live alone in Pangrati. The period is heavy and tense. I go to the studio almost every day. Loneliness is hard, but it pushes me there. The studio functions as a place to hold on to myself, and production continues.
At the same time, the goal is chasing me: the exhibition scheduled for February 2025. I have few works. It would barely stand. I didn’t go on vacation. Only a few days with my son in Thailand.

Autumn 2024
The pressure grows. Not because I’m not working, but because I feel I have to catch up. The tension consumes me, but it helps the production. When I’m like that, more comes out.

December 2024 – January 2025
Two months before, the postponement is decided. The exhibition moves to February 2026. At first, I’m shaken. After a while, I breathe more easily.

It doesn’t become easy. But it becomes possible. Now there is time for many works to be made and for there to be choice. I’m no longer working with the anxiety of “it has to come out.” Each work is no longer an end in itself.

Spring 2025
A routine sets in. Studio almost every day. The work begins to come out more effortlessly. I find rhythm. When a work responds, it pulls me to continue it.

Interest from people reappears. It had faded because of the pause. People come to the studio, see the new works, ask questions. That helps me understand that I’m returning.

Summer 2025
This summer I’m calmer. I keep working, but without panic. The works come out more alive and more colorful than the previous Skulls@Hearts series, which was more closed and one-dimensional. I see the difference in myself and in the work.

Autumn 2025
Production continues. There is material. Many works. That gives comfort, but makes selection more difficult. Studio visits increase. The work moves forward again. That does me good.

December 2025
The catalogue begins. A very good friend, a graphic designer, takes it on. We decide to make a proper catalogue, with cost. I want it. The works leave. The catalogue remains.

A lot of organization comes in. It tires you in a different way. It doesn’t lift you up. It drains you.

January 2026
Final stretch. It’s not running like clockwork. Texts, replies, deadlines. Not an hour left empty. The exhibition approaches and the day shrinks.
It’s difficult for me to have many things at once. Studio, email, phone calls, catalogue. It’s fragmentation.

Two days before the opening
Now I’m two days before the opening. I’m anxious. But I see that work came out. Many works, and good ones. There is choice, and there is life in them. I’m waiting to see them installed in the space and standing on their own.