Kostas Papakostas
Greek-born, London-based artist Kostas Papakostas explores moments of in-between through gestural abstraction, allowing chance and intuition to guide his large-scale paintings. Learn more about his practice below.
Where are you from and where do you reside?
I was born in Athens, Greece, and I’ve spent most of my life in London, which is where I’m currently based.
When did you begin your current practice?
Although I studied art in both Greece and the UK, I spent the majority of my creative career working as an art director in London. I started out at major advertising agencies before eventually running my own agency. It was a fast-paced and rewarding period, but in 2018 I felt the need for a deeper and more personal form of expression. It was an inevitable step towards my own personal growth, too.
You have a particularly unique process for creating your artwork. What led you to this process and how did you know it was the right one to pursue?
My current process emerged during a period of grief and reflection. I was attending an art residency, and I arrived without any concrete ideas or direction. One day, I came across a bucket of black ink and a large stack of industrial printing paper rolls and began making continuous, sweeping brush marks across them as they unrolled. At the time, I wasn’t focused on outcomes. It was a meditative act, a way for me to process complex emotions and memories. Over time, these spontaneous gestures became a sort of ritual. I was fascinated by how even a single brush hairline could carry so much emotional weight. Within a few weeks, I had completed a piece that stretched over a mile long. It was a raw, unfiltered, and honest experience that opened up a new way of connecting with both myself and my art.
I was fascinated by how even a single brush hairline could carry so much emotional weight.
Kostas Papakostas
What are some themes you find recurring in your pieces, intentional or not?
Flow, transformation, Impermanence, the passage of time, and power dynamics are some of the themes that recur in my work.
Where do you find your day-to-day inspiration?
I live in London, a vibrant city that’s always in flux. That sense of constant transition fuels me with inspiration. I try to stay curious and open to it all by tuning into the small details and subtle shifts of the city. At the same time, I make sure to take long breaks in nature, often by the sea. Nature is a huge source of inspiration for me and also a great teacher. It offers a different kind of perspective. Social shifts, personal experiences, and memories also feed into my work. Like everyone, they shape what I notice and how I respond to the world around me.
How do the different elements color and gesture come together in your works?
I work primarily in monochrome. I feel that a limited palette reveals energy, movement, texture, and depth in their most raw and honest form. It allows the gesture to take precedence and emphasize the flow, the rhythm, the tension, and the emotional weight of each brushstroke.
My process is intuitive and gestural. Each mark responds to the one before it, and the interaction between colour and gesture work in synergy until something meaningful begins to emerge.
Kostas Papakostas
I select my colours in advance to reduce my decision-making during the process and allow me to focus fully on what’s happening on the canvas. I often like to mix different colour tones directly on my surface, letting the brush carry both motion and pigment in a single gesture. My process is intuitive and gestural. Each mark responds to the one before it, and the interaction between colour and gesture work in synergy until something meaningful begins to emerge.
What role does chance play in your work?
Because of the nature of my process, I’ve learned to embrace chance as part of the language of my work.
This kind of responsiveness, even the accidents, often reveal something new. Some of the most meaningful moments in a piece come from those unexpected turns. In many ways, chance isn’t just a part of the process; it’s the space where the work starts to speak back. It’s not about leaving everything to chance, but about being open enough to follow where the painting wants to go.
What is the most difficult part of the artistic process for you?
Staying in the zone. I don’t work from sketches or preconceived ideas; my process is intuitive and visceral. It requires a kind of openness and presence, where I have to be fully engaged, yet somehow able to step aside. To be fully present and somehow fully absent at the same time, if that makes sense.
Once I’m in that zone, the painting begins to unfold on its own terms. I’m guiding it, but also listening to what it wants to become. This is not always easy, and some days it’s harder than others. But over time, I’ve learned to trust the process and allow it to lead.
How has your work developed in the past few years, and how do you see it evolving in the future?
Over the past few years, I feel that my work has matured, not only in terms of the technique, but also in the depth of my relationship with it. It has become an extension of who I am and how i see the world. As I grow, the work continues to reveal new layers of meaning, and I’ve become more attuned to that dialogue between process and outcome. Looking ahead, I hope that evolution continues. I want the work to keep shifting, deepening, and surprising me.
As I grow, the work continues to reveal new layers of meaning, and I’ve become more attuned to that dialogue between process and outcome.
Kostas Papakostas
What necessities do you require when making your art (radio, specific paintbrushes, etc.)?
Not much. Just a distraction-free environment and my tools: a surface, paint, and my custom-made brushes. Music plays a role, too. It helps me get into a rhythm or mood, depending on what I’m working on.
Describe a typical day in the studio for you.
Over time, I’ve really come to value the rhythm of a steady studio routine. I usually get to the studio early and start the day by clearing out any admin or emails. Then, depending on how I’m feeling, I’ll either take a walk by the canal next to my studio or stay in to read or write. In between, I spend time with works in progress, sit with them, and gradually find my way into the zone. Once I'm there, I start painting. That part is unpredictable. Some days it flows for just an hour, other times I’ll look up and realise many hours have passed. It really depends on the energy of the day, the phase I am in, and how the work is moving.
Do you find that your surroundings direct your approach to your work?
Absolutely. My surroundings inevitably shape my experiences and identity, and it’s only natural that they reflect in my approach to my work. This goes beyond physical or geographical context. It includes the broader social and political atmosphere as well. Living through times of uncertainty has deeply influenced how I think about transformation and instability, both on a personal and collective level.
My surroundings inevitably shape my experiences and identity, and it’s only natural that they reflect in my approach to my work.
Kostas Papakostas
What tangible objects or intangible moments are you most interested in representing through your works?
I’m most interested in representing moments of transition, change, and flow. Those in-between states where something is shifting or becoming rather than settled or resolved. It is an exploration of a continuous motion and transformation, resisting final forms or fixed identities. These moments of flux can arise from objects, experiences, emotions, or fleeting memories.
Are you influenced by any author or non-visual artist? Are you influenced by any artist that does something completely different than you?
I think I’m influenced more by non-visual artists than by other painters. Poets, musicians, and writers have had a big impact on me over the years. Rainer Maria Rilke’s writing for example, has stayed with me for a long time. The same goes for Hermann Hesse, Kahlil Gibran, T.S. Eliot, and many others.
Minimalist composers have also been a big source of inspiration. Philip Glass and Steve Reich, as well as a younger generation including Max Richter and Nils Frahm, have accompanied me on my creative journey. That said, my musical influences come from many genres. Even today, I might start my day listening to classical, switch to post-punk halfway through, and end it with folk.
In terms of visual artists, I’ve been influenced by Bill Viola from a young age. Although he works primarily with video, his meditative pacing and exploration of time, ritual, and human vulnerability resonate deeply with the themes I explore in my own way. I’m also intrigued by how Martin Parr elevates the mundane to something extraordinary. There have been many great artists who have opened new windows to the way I see and experience the world.
Do you remember the first work of art that captured your attention?
There wasn’t much art at home where I grew up, but I was lucky to grow up in Athens, where there’s a lot of history and art everywhere. The Hellenistic sculptures were all around, and I remember looking closely at their details. I was also drawn to the simplicity and purity of the Cycladic figurines from even earlier periods. They all seemed to suggest something much larger that I couldn’t quite grasp at the time.
Do you admire or draw inspiration from any of your peers who are also working now? Have you ever collaborated, or would you? How solitary is your art-making process?
I returned to painting later in life, so I had to make a conscious effort to build a network of peers that I admire and with whom I can share ideas and experiences. While my art-making process is solitary, I find those conversations essential. I sometimes invite artists to my studio from different disciplines, backgrounds, or stages in their practice to collaborate on a painting. It’s a way of disrupting my usual way of seeing and thinking about my work. It also helps me let go of being too precious about what I make and keep the ego in check.
Is there any artwork on display in your home/studio? Whose is it?
Yes, definitely. My studio walls are mostly covered with my own test runs and ongoing experiments that are waiting to be revisited one day. In one corner, there’s a little collection of old wall clocks I’ve been gathering for a future project, alongside some clay sculptures I made years ago that have somehow survived multiple moves. By the main windows, there's a row of solar-powered hula girls who sway whenever there's enough light. The centrepiece is an original 1920s poster of Hu Die, a legendary Chinese actress from the golden age of Shanghai cinema.
At home, there is a mix of some of my earliest paintings, some photography, and a small collection of artworks I’ve either bought in my travels or swapped with other artists I admire. More recently, my four-year-old son’s drawings have started to take over.
What’s next for you?
I just had a solo show in London, which had an overwhelming response, and right now I’m taking some time out in nature to recover and refuel. Once I’m back in the studio later in the summer, I am planning to start working on a new body of work and explore some new collaborations that I’ve been thinking about for a while.
Published July 3, 2025.
