About
Elisabeth Theo is a Greek-Austrian contemporary artist based in Vienna, Austria, working primarily in acrylic, oil, and mixed media.
Primarily a painter, she creates still lifes, landscapes, and composed scenes drawn from observation, memory, and invention, sometimes all at once.
She holds a Master’s degree from the University of Applied Arts Vienna and maintains a full-time studio practice, with works held in private collections in Europe and North America.
artist statement
„As a child I was always searching for the meaning of it all, the big why; and my father always said there is no one big purpose but I had the most ripe orange today and kissed my cat goodnight, I think that’s enough purpose for a day.“ – Rikita Jyala
When I was little, after every kiss on the cheek, my grandpa would declare that he’d never wash that spot again. As if that simple kiss on the cheek was worth more that all the silver and gold.
Unfortunately, my grandfather passed away far too soon, but when I think back on this important man, I don’t necessarily remember all his great and significant deeds – of which there were many – but rather the kiss on the cheek, the red ink splatters that landed on my grandmother’s white lace curtains during one of our many experiments together, or that he had this amazing tracksuit made of this totally wild, shiny material that was perfect for playing „slide“ 3000 times in a row.
And I don’t want to talk about my good friend Death, who has been by my side so faithfully ever since, but in my eyes, it’s not the big stories that stay with us, or that we miss but rather the box of chocolate-covered bananas we devoured together and regretted shortly afterward, the three kilograms of butter we smeared all over out pieces of Easter strudel, the best Galaktoboureko of the world and coffee shared with grandma under the mandarin tree, or the detour you take on the way home just so you can put off saying goodbye a little longer.
Often, it’s only in hindsight that we realise how much was contained in those seemingly mundane moments. How extraordinarily precious those moments suddenly become when we miss someone. And just as my grandpa and I wanted to hold on to that kiss on the cheek, I try to capture precisely those seemingly trivial moments in my paintings. Not only because we often long for nothing more than to experience those moments again with the person we miss, but because I’m personally convinced that somewhere within them lies the meaning of life.
And maybe I’m romanticising those moments too much. But in a world where billionaires get excited about flying cars, I’d rather celebrate my nephew who just found the best stick of his life, the first bite of my mom’s almond cake, or the flowers my fiancé surprises me with on a Wednesday night.
And maybe that is why my practice remains simple: I am someone who returns to the studio each day, paint worlds I want to live in, and keep setting the table, even for those who are gone.
Important elements: colour, domestic objects, books, food, tulips, small figures and houses set within expansive landscapes, poetry, nature, the recurring rocket, and the particular pleasure of a moment one does not want to end.
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