IVÁN ARGOTE - INTERVIEW
Today, we’re excited to be speaking with Iván Argote, a Colombian artist whose work boldly challenges the way we view history, public spaces, and our relationships with others and the natural world. Known for his multidisciplinary practice, including monumental public installations, film, and sculpture, Argote uses humor and tenderness to question dominant narratives and explore themes of power, memory, and belonging. His latest work, Dinosaur, a colossal pigeon sculpture on New York’s High Line, turns an often-overlooked bird into a towering monument, sparking conversations about urban life, humanity, and coexistence. Iván, thank you for joining us!
1. Beginnings and Philosophy
You grew up in Bogotá in a family of political activists. How has your upbringing influenced your approach to art and the themes you explore?
My parents were both leaders and activists in the teachers' unions in Colombia. I feel my work extends their political efforts and also reflects their pedagogical approach. I work more from the culture. Art is a philosophical tool that we can use to understand or question different realities and, most importantly, to generate transformations.
2. Creative Process
Your work spans such diverse media: film, sculpture, installations, and public interventions. How do you decide which medium best fits the story you want to tell?
The way I work is influenced by early conceptual artists and historical exhibitions such as "When Attitudes Become Forms." It is also shaped by the works of Latin American artists whose conceptual strategies were more engaged in politics, like Cildo Meireles and Antonio Caro, as well as by photographers like Paz Errázuriz, Luis Benito Ramos, and Claudia Andujar. I studied graphic design and cinema in Colombia and worked in the film industry. I still consider the medium I come from to be the moving image (I'm actually working nowadays on some small performances filmed in Super 8mm film). I then developed a practice in sculpture and public installation because I wanted to raise questions in public space and generate devices that invite interaction and provoke thought about how we perceive otherness, as well as critique the authoritarian control that institutions have over us, both physically and symbolically. I am a compulsive drawer, I draw all the time, so, it's not that I choose a media, it's more like I make no difference and feel it's all part of a system or reasoning that is meant to adapt in different context, but keep the same spirit of critical thinking, historical questioning, liberating spirit and joyful energy.
3. Public Art and Monuments
Your Dinosaur sculpture on the High Line reimagines the idea of a monument by celebrating the everyday pigeon. What inspired you to create this work, and what do you hope it communicates to New Yorkers?
I wanted to create a monument to the undesirable and invisible. At the same time, it's a sculpture that generates empathy. I think that's its deep meaning. Can we be empathetic? Of course, it also touches on issues such as our relationship with other species and our relationship with extinction, and of course, it also questions our idea of a monument.
4. Historical Narratives
A lot of your work, including Dinosaur, challenges traditional historical narratives. Why is it important to you to critique and reimagine how we memorialize history?
There isn't just one history; there are millions. The hegemonic narratives purposely erase the histories of the most vulnerable to highlight what the holders of power use as an ideological basis for their own behaviors. Controlling the historical narrative is closely tied to power and domination. All those who seek to gain more power or control will, at some point, force and act in ways that channel history to serve their interests. It is important to emphasize that we should elevate alternative narratives that counterbalance the hegemonic ones, not only from a political standpoint but also from cultural and poetic perspectives.
5. Social Justice and Humor
Your art often mixes critical social commentary with humor and playfulness. How do you strike that balance, and why is it an important tool for engaging audiences?
It comes from different sides. I want my work to be welcoming, to invite conversation. A conversation about issues that we may not agree on. Humor is key in that; it disarms and creates openness. I also feel there's another part of that that comes from my culture, Colombia is a country where we laugh a lot, despite the sometimes violent context and history. All families have suffered from the endless spirals of violence, and I think we use humour to process and heal. Political humour has also been very important in our history, and importants figure like Jaime Garzon, murdered by the military more than 20 years ago, is still an important icon for freedom of speech.
6. Institutional and Public Spaces
You’ve exhibited at prestigious institutions like the Centre Pompidou and created works for public spaces like the High Line. How does your approach differ when working within an institution versus a public setting?
Every project, place, and city has its own specificities. I feel a strong sense of responsibility while working in each context; art is, for me, a public thing. I engage in it to contribute to a long historical conversation. In my case, it is certainly something personal and sentimental, but more importantly, it is an offering to visitors or passersby that can inspire a transformation in their perspectives. It is a great honor to collaborate with these significant institutions; at the same time, I continue to work with small independent institutions and projects that enrich the work and the public dialogue.
7. Large-Scale Installations
Many of your works, such as Dinosaur and previous pieces like Bridges at Frieze Sculpture, are monumental in scale. What excites you most about creating large-scale works, and what challenges come with them?
The relation that these sculptures generate with the body, and the conversations that they can generate. Many of my installations are usable: bridges, the gigantic/collective seesaw. Others, like Dinosaur, create a change of situation, making us humans the size of a pigeon, and then introducing other questions about our relation with other species. I like the idea of a work that involves your body and it's activated by movement, a good example is "A Common Path", that I presented at Lyon Biennale, it's a path, a bench, but mainly a poem that you read by walking. It engages the body and the mind into a movement.
8. Cultural Identity
As an artist from the global south, how do your cultural roots inform your perspective and artistic practice?
I was born and raised in Colombia, I traveled outside the country as a young adult. I feel deeply rooted in my culture and history. As you know, I also come from a family of militants, who's still very engaged in social justice. As a migrant we have to understand and navigate other worlds, histories, and realities while facing stigmas, exotizations, paternalisms, etc. You have to learn new languages, new ways to do and assume a position to your own foreignness. It could be a lot to handle, every migrant deal with that in a different way. On my side I feel that when you migrate, you create a larger understanding of your own culture, and others' culture. You control and know about your music, but also about other's country folklore, and this in politics, economics, literature, pop culture, ideology, etc. I always keep my roots and where I come from, and when I make something, I try to make something that is meaningful for the people who experience it, but also for my community.
9. Viewer Experience
Your works often invite interaction or evoke strong emotional responses. What role do you think the audience plays in completing your pieces?
This is the goal of my work: that people complete it. As artists, we have many reasons for what we do. It's a necessity, but it also demands the attention of others. I try to make devices, physical or symbolical, that are meant to.
10. Future Projects
If you could create any project without limitations (be it financial, logistical, or spatial) what would it be?
I would create time. More down to earth, I dream of creating a public park. Also I dream of creating laws, policies to put culture at the center of our societies and economic systems.
11. Advice for Emerging Artists
What advice would you give to young artists who want to create socially engaged work or challenge traditional narratives?
First, go for it, if you feel it, it's a fire that burns inside. No one will tell you how or what to do, so try. Don't be afraid, don't hurt people. Get truly interested in other's process, learn from others.
12. Art Market and Collectors
Your work has been shown in both institutional settings and commercial galleries. How do you view your relationship with the art market? Are your collectors primarily private individuals, or do you find more support from institutions? How does this influence the type of work you create?
I have the privilege of being supported by private collectors who are thoughtfully engaged with my work and the questions I explore. Thanks to the dedication of curators, researchers, and supporters who have closely followed my process, several institutions that I respected have acquired my works over time. I do not prioritize the commercial aspect of my work, but I recognize its importance and I integrate it into my practice's overall economy.
I aim for my studio to function as a research institute, with acquisitions contributing to its financial structure alongside commissions and various honorariums for different projects. This support enables my team and me to live, while pursuing a range of research avenues, both conceptually and materially. It allows us to experiment with various materials and, most importantly, to collaborate with a diverse group of professionals—researchers, artisans, musicians, engineers, botanists, gardeners, visual artists, writers, videographers, foundry workers, painters, ceramicists, glassmakers, chefs, actors, and more. These collaborations are precious and one of the things I enjoy the most.
Additionally, the funds we get help to support a self-funded nonprofit, Espacio Temporal, which my partner Sofia Lanusse and I established to present ambitious exhibitions of Latin American artists in Europe. I believe that the economy generated by our work should align with the political conversations it inspires. I do not seek to accumulate; rather, I believe in the importance of movement and cultural agitation.