Irini Karagiannopoulou from Athens and Alison Blickle from Los Angeles come together for a joint exhibition titled Alien Hand, at the General Assembly gallery in Mayfair, London. "We both focus on the female form as a field of transformation," Irini tells us, as we speak about the alien, metaphysical stage of creation.
"The female body carries a heavy historical burden. For centuries it has been either an object of desire - like the odalisque - or a symbol of innocence and holiness - like the Virgin Mary - and this has always been through the gaze of the male creator," says Irini Karagiannopoulou in a conversation with us on the occasion of her new exhibition with Alison Blickle, based in Los Angeles.
"In the history of art, the idea of automatic gesture as access to the unconscious was intensely preoccupied by the Surrealists," he continues in his approach to interpreting Alien Hand Syndrome, to which the title of the exhibition of the two artists, who meet under the curatorship of Blackbird Rook, at the General Assembly gallery, in Mayfair, London, from March 6 to 21, 2026, refers.
"Invisible intelligence" is the simultaneous activation of experience, memory, undisciplined thinking, technical and aesthetic maturity, and physical knowledge.
The title Alien Hand refers to a neurological phenomenon where the hand acts autonomously. When did you first feel that your painting was "guided" by something beyond conscious intention?
In the exhibition you talk about an invisible intelligence guiding the work. Is it something spiritual, psychological or purely artistic?
"Invisible intelligence" is the simultaneous activation of experience, memory, undisciplined thinking, technical and aesthetic maturity, and bodily knowledge. It is the point where the conscious meets the unconscious. In painting, this translates into images that are partly as if they were made by themselves. You create something that you don't believe you made. On the other hand, the history of modern art has shown us that creation can be experienced as a revelation without losing its gravity and seriousness. The artistic act is a constant negotiation between control, a deep knowledge of the language of the medium, and tradition. You let go, but only when you feel safe. In this case, safety is achieved through self-concentration; so it is probably "spiritual intelligence," after all.
Although you are on different continents (Athens-Los Angeles) with Alison Blickle, your works are called upon to have a strong conversation. Are there specific mythologies or archetypal figures that function as a common ground in your work?
First, we both focus on the female form as a field of transformation. Mythology is indeed commonplace in our work, and so are archetypes - we transform elements of primordial narratives into contemporary allegories of desire and power. But our greatest common ground, where we fully identify, is the rewriting of the female experience: for us, the representation of the female figure is a field of empowerment. The woman is no longer an object, but a subject who feels and claims. We capture, each in her own way, the complexity of the body, identity, and roles that define us.
The female body carries a heavy historical burden. For centuries it has been either an object of desire - like the odalisque - or a symbol of innocence and holiness - like the Virgin Mary - and this has always been through the gaze of the male creator.
How do you experience the female image today - as a symbol, as a body, as a field of power or tenderness?
The female body carries a heavy historical burden. For centuries it has been either an object of desire - like the odalisque - or a symbol of innocence and holiness - like the Virgin Mary - and this has always been through the gaze of the male creator. As female artists, we know feminine nature from the inside and we consider it derogatory that until now those who could only observe us superficially have spoken about us. As women, we experience power, desire, spirituality, fragility, motherhood, creativity, but also hundreds of other things firsthand. We are not one-dimensional. We are not either saints or prostitutes. Fortunately, it is our turn to reclaim our voice and restore the truth.
Your forms - mythical bodies, avatars, ghosts - seem transitory. Are they carriers of divination or a reflection of inner states?
It is well known that the way we feel is subtly recorded in our posture, our gaze, or our expression. Our inner state influences our outer image, like an avatar shaped by the data that feeds it. Perhaps what we call "aura" is not a metaphysical phenomenon, but the reflection of the psychic world on the surface of the body. Both Alison Blickle and I listen very carefully to all these elements and incorporate them almost obsessively into our narratives.
The work is ready when no further correction is needed and when there is nothing to add. It's a bit like orgasm; it happens, you understand it.
When do you know a project is complete? When control is regained?
Very good but also difficult question. I would say that completion comes when the image acquires its autonomy. The work is ready when no further correction is required and when there is nothing to add. It is a bit like orgasm; it happens, you understand it.
The exhibition proposes the workshop as a place of "visitation." Who or what visits you when you create?
The laboratory is at once a place of discipline, mystery, chaos and concentration. What "visits" us is a state of intense clarity governed by all these contradictory elements. Agnes Martin spoke of moments of clear perception; I would say that this description resonates with me.
How does the canvas function as a meeting ground "beyond understanding"?
The secret power of painting is that it mediates between the invisible and the visible. The transcendent, as a field of tensions, energy and emotions, acquires form through the material presence of color, gesture and composition. At this level, the image does not function as a simple representation but as a vehicle of revelation: experience precedes conceptual understanding and semantic interpretation remains secondary and possibly insufficient. The same is true of poetry.
In an era where images are mass-produced and digitally produced, how does painting maintain its power as an invitation to the unknown?
In the age of artificial intelligence, painting is a political act. It requires time and physical presence, like anything meaningful. It is a form of resistance and true communication. And of course, conversation with the beyond, with the sublime, with whatever exists beyond our perception, is achieved either with drugs or with art. You decide.
I would like the viewer to be moved. To lose their composure, their mind and their logic. To lose the ground beneath their feet.
What would you like the viewer to feel upon entering the exhibition space?
I would like the viewer to be moved. To lose their composure, their mind and their logic. To lose the ground beneath their feet.
If Alien Hand is an invitation to the unknown, what risk is the audience being asked to take?
The artists take the risk. The audience may or may not be "thrilled" by the result. David Bowie wrote and sang it in Memory of a Free Festival: Oh to capture just one drop of all the ecstasy that swept that afternoon. To paint the love upon a white balloon. I have nothing more to add, these lyrics cover me completely.
Can ecstasy be considered a form of knowledge?
As long as we understand it as a state of heightened perception and not as a loss of logic and control, yes. Ecstasy can function as an expansion of consciousness.
