My name is δoxa γeorgopoulou. It was spring in Athens, when I was born. I am the second child of a family that wanted to discuss about everything. Since I remember myself, I shaped human figures with my hands. I even used bread for that, during boring dinners of my childhood. My sister and I used to draw during all the long summers of our childhood. That’s how I remember these summers. As very long and hot. With endless middays, when we had to stay quiet because the whole neighborhood was taking a nap. Back then, I only had a small, white, spiral-banded block with one word on the cover page in black letters, a pencil, and an eraser. I have no idea what happened to them.
It is a pity. I never drew flowers, trees, or houses. I was always obsessed with people. I was even copying figures from books. Since then, it feels like a hundred years have passed, and I still draw people. But using colors now. Many colors. And drawing better. At least, I hope so.
I am obsessed with the things that people dispose of and I want to discover their after-usage value.
My occupation with nursing, gymnastics and nutrition offered me a valuable way of “reading” the human body.
I like train stations, where I, furtively and undisturbed, can observe unwary travelers, pretending I am an occasional travel companion. I try to imagine their stories and attempt to verify them, by approaching them and overhearing their discussions.
Sometimes I cannot resist an internal drive to follow unknown people down the street, only to see their front. To see their face and whether it fits with the body that is walking in front of me or someone placed it on this head, as if it was a left over that could not be used otherwise.
I am fascinated by human discomfort, loneliness and the multidimensional aspects of reality that each one of us invents for oneself.
Deviation among one’s look, speech and movement is what confuses my feelers and can automatically become a source of inspiration for me. I am deeply touched by the vulnerable nature of human existence.
My artworks have a personality of their own. They talk to me and explain their needs. In a supernatural way they ask and demand their position in space.
I like libraries and books that do not have a happy end. I would like to eat a book on a plate, using a fork and a knife.
As I grow old, I appreciate silence more and more.
My occupation with art is for me the power of gravity that keeps my feet on the ground.