Beyond the Material Surface with Nikolas Antoniou

May 12, 2025

Nikolas Antoniou doesn’t paint portraits - he constructs atmospheres. Somewhere between figuration and freefall, his faces hover in a space between clarity and chaos, where identity dissolves and emotion takes shape. Starting with fragments of real people, Antoniou rebuilds his subjects as reflective surfaces - quiet mirrors for the viewer’s own inner narrative. Each brushstroke resists finality; instead, the works pulse with a kind of elegant unrest. These aren’t just portraits - they’re fragments of feeling, open questions, quiet reflections. Step closer, and the details blur - not by accident, but by invitation.

Your portraits beautifully blur the line between realism and abstraction - what draws you to this space in between?

I was always fascinated by realism, but at the same time, abstraction deeply interested me too. From the very beginning, I knew these two were often seen as opposites, but I always felt that the real power was hidden in the contrast between them. As humans, we carry both inside ourselves - light and shadow, tenderness and aggression, clarity and chaos. I felt a strong need to find a way to balance these forces, to allow them to coexist. I wanted my paintings to hold both worlds at once - so that depending on where you are, emotionally or mentally, the painting could shift in its direction, revealing different layers each time you look.

Can you describe your thought process when approaching a new portrait? Do you start with a specific emotion, person, or colour palette in mind?

I usually start by capturing certain features of the portrait that carry a strong feeling - often the eyes, the nose with its intense shadows, or even the ears. From there, I let the painting process guide me. Even though I have a broad idea of what I want to create, I often end up somewhere completely different - and I think that's the beauty of it. It feels like a discovery each time, and that fascinates me.

Your mark-making feels both raw and intentional. How do you decide when a painting is finished, or when to stop adding detail?

I believe a painting is never truly finished - there’s always the possibility to add more, to change something, to push it further. It’s only the artist’s decision to stop that defines its completion. I think this choice is part of the artist’s identity; it has to be a deeply personal decision. For me, it’s a feeling - a sense that the conversation between myself and the painting has come to an end. That the painting has given me the answers to the questions it created.

There’s a haunting yet tender quality in the way you partially obscure faces. What role does distortion or erasure play in your work?

When I first started doing this, it came from the realisation that sometimes, when certain elements are missing, their absence carries even more power and meaning. That led me to another discovery - that the viewer naturally tries to imagine or complete the missing parts, which makes the work more engaging. It invites a deeper observation of the portrait. It also leaves space for multiple interpretations, and I never wanted my work to speak about one specific thing. I wanted it to act more like a spark - something that starts a conversation or opens the door to an imaginary story.

How important is the identity of the subject in your process - are these real people, composites, or imagined figures?

I always start with references of real people, but I never aim to recreate the photo. I use certain features or the posture as a starting point to create something completely new. I don't focus on who the person is; their identity doesn't matter to me. What matters is reaching a point where the figure or portrait becomes a mirror - something that reflects back to the viewer, allowing them to find their own meaning in it.

Colour seems to carry a lot of emotional weight in your portraits. How do you choose your colour palettes, and what are they meant to express?

When observing a portrait, you can see that the skin often reflects the environment around it or reveals colours through its own transparency. I realised that what I often do is extend those colours - making them more vibrant and intense, while ignoring the actual skin tone. This tends to add to the narrative or the emotion the portrait carries. I also believe that in painting, brushwork and colour aren’t just there to describe something realistically; they are there to express something beyond the material surface - something emotional, something felt.

Colour seems to carry a lot of emotional weight in your portraits. How do you choose your colour palettes, and what are they meant to express?

Do you see your work as psychological or emotional landscapes as much as physical portraits? If so, how do you channel that into your brushwork?

I see my work not just as portraits, but as emotional and psychological landscapes. The physical features are just the starting point; what interests me is everything that lies beneath. I try to channel this through my brushwork - by allowing gestures to stay raw, imperfect, and alive, I create space for vulnerability, tension, and shifting emotions to exist within the painting. Each mark is not just describing a face, but carrying a feeling, a thought, sometimes even a conflict. I want the painting to feel like it's breathing, like it's still searching, just like we are.

What do you hope the viewer feels or questions when standing in front of one of your portraits?

I don’t hope for a specific feeling or reaction. What matters to me is that the viewer stops for a moment and creates their own connection with the painting. I want the work to feel open - like an unfinished story they can step into. Maybe they recognise something of themselves in it, maybe it stirs a memory, a question, or just a feeling they can’t quite name. I’m more interested in creating a space for reflection rather than giving answers. I just hope that, in some way, the conversation it sparks touches on existential questions - about who we are, what we carry inside, and how we move through the world.