Meet the Artist | Emil Giannisis Verbogt
- Zoha Khan
- Mar 14
- 7 min read
Growing up in the suburbs in Greece, Emil Verbogt has used drawing to create a sense of belonging through portraits of faces deemed 'unattractive', capturing wrinkles, unusual facial structures, and other features gleaned from normal people. In his collection "Study of Human Sorrow on Handmade Paper", he presents eight drawings that explore the interplay of grief, transformation and renewal through a sustainable lens. Grief is a universal experience, and Emil helps us consider our own relationship with loss and how we can transform it into gain, not just for ourselves, but for those around us and the planet we inhabit.
Let's dive into the 9 questions with Emil! Read the full interview below!
Can you tell us about your artistic journey and how your background influences your work?
My work has always been defined by my background. Growing up in a family of two
nationalities, as a queer kid in the Greek suburbs, always gave me a sense of not belonging,
and that fuelled my need to create my own little worlds. Drawing came first, and as my need
for more complex worlds grew, I started practicing filmmaking. But I never let drawing go—I
always draw, every day, as if I need it. Despite the medium being completely different, there
has always been a connection between the two, as both stem from my attempt to create
something that feels familiar to me.
Are there are any main or recurring themes in your work? And where do you mainly draw inspiration from- external, internal, or a mix?
Recurring themes have always been present in my work, along with recognizable patterns
and a distinct use of color. I have always been drawn to faces and people, especially those
who wouldn’t be considered conventionally attractive. Since I was very young, my favorite
people to draw were older individuals—with deep wrinkles, double chins, thinning hair, big
noses, and unusual facial structures. To me, they are more satisfying to draw and more
interesting to look at.
People often ask me if I draw real-life individuals, but that’s not really the case. I always
observe faces in the streets, on the metro, in supermarkets, and I’m naturally drawn to the
‘stranger’ ones. So, the faces I draw are a combination of multiple features I collect in my
memory from different strangers I encounter every day. The inspiration behind their (almost
always) big noses comes from my own big nose and the prominent noses in my family.
I have one rule: I never draw real-life people, especially when asked, because it never goes
well. People want to see an idealized version of themselves, and I am the wrong artist for
that.
So, my inspiration is a mix of external elements—gathered through people-watching—and
internal ones, driven by my need to express emotions through drawing, which I use as a
form of self-therapy.
Sunset strolling silhouettes How did you start your Antisocial Singularity project?
Shortly before the pandemic began, I started experimenting with digital art for the first time,
meaning I drew on a tablet and not on paper anymore. I was very confused as to what the
material is and how lasting a file on a computer can be as opposed to a piece of paper. Then
I decided to create an anonymous account on Instagram where I’d post my digital artworks
in secret, a way to help them live longer and be accessible when I need to find them. The
secretiveness of the account also gave me a reason to use it as a form of a digital diary, so I
started accompanying each artwork with text I wrote. What I didn’t expect, was for people to actually come and follow the work, showing me for the first time that what I make and write is something people where interested in. The anonymity of it all made it possible for me to keep going, not being afraid what people are going to think of it as it is not something that I, Emil, made, but the online persona that I named Antisocial Singularity. Up until recently, even close friends of my didn’t know that I was behind it. It’s a lifelong project that I have given a lot of love and it gave love to me back.
Emil Giannisis Verbogt ''Study of a Human Sorrow'', 2025, Ink on handmade paper, 15 x 9,5cm
You prioritize eco-friendly materials in your work. Can you talk us through the significance of the materials you use and how you balance sustainability with the durability of your works?
The choice of materials when creating something is just as important as every other artistic
decision. I produce a vast number of sketches in my daily life—many of which I don’t keep
and sometimes even throw away. My love for paper led me to experiment with paper-making
at home, recycling those discarded sketches into new sheets that I can draw on again. It’s a
very satisfying process.
Switching from physical materials to digital ones was a bold choice. My workspace suddenly
felt empty—I was used to being surrounded by paper, paints, materials, and even scraps.
That made me more aware of the environmental impact of my work. This realization pushed
me further, leading me to see recycling as an art form itself. It’s not just about the artwork but also about what it’s created on. This approach allows me to be more sustainable as an artist. How do you see the role of artists in addressing sustainability in today’s art world?
Artists play a crucial role in addressing contemporary issues. Every artist should, in some
way, reflect the world around them. Being vocal about sustainability in art is important
because people often look to artists for inspiration. If more artists incorporate sustainability
into their practice, it could normalise eco-conscious creation, making the world a better
place—one artwork at a time.
Can you tell us about your participation in the latest exhibition, Wasteland to Wonderland: Art in the Age of Sustainability with Insistrum? What do you hope audiences take away from it?
To be honest, I never think about what the audience will take away from my work. I’ve
realized that a huge part of my enjoyment in exhibiting something comes from hearing the
different interpretations people have—often surprising me. Sometimes, they even see
aspects of myself that I hadn’t consciously recognised until they pointed it out. That, to me, is very rewarding.
The specific artwork in this exhibition was, again, a result of a therapeutic process. So, in a
way, I hope that at least some people can relate to it and feel something similar to what I felt
while creating it—adjusted to their own experiences
The specific artwork, is again a result of a form of psychotherapy that I did. So in a way I
hope that at least some people can relate to it and feel what I felt whilst making it, adjusted
to their own experience.
Lady on the Metro Can you share the inspiration and story behind the series Study of a Human Sorrow on Handmade Paper?
Whenever something significant happens in my life and I struggle to cope, I throw myself into a cycle of obsessive creation. I make myself focus on a project—something unrelated to the reason I feel bad. This forces me to redirect my thoughts toward making rather than dwelling on what happened.
In this case, I was recovering from a breakup that deeply affected me, so I started making
paper. Then, I began drawing on that paper while listening to sad music, thinking about the
nature of sorrow. This process helped me process and accept my emotions.
As I continued, I started noticing recurring visual patterns. It became clear to me that I was
unintentionally creating a series—eight drawings that fit together as a whole. Looking back, I
can see those certain elements I drew reflected what hurt me most about the breakup: a
lonesome bed of flowers, a coffee cup, smiling faces surrounded by flowers. The happy
imagery on soft pink paper contrasts with the emotions I had while making them, which, in a
way, helped me heal.
The stop-motion video in Study of a Human Sorrow visually represents the cycle of renewal, alternating between blank handmade sheets and completed drawings. What inspired you to use this format, and how does it reflect the emotional journey behind the work?
As a filmmaker, I have always loved stop-motion animation. When I saw the uniqueness of
each handmade sheet I created for this series, I wanted to highlight that—not just through
the artworks but through the paper itself.
Making a stop-motion video allowed me to alternate between the blank and drawn-on
sheets, emphasising how each one was different and unique—just like people. It also
symbolises the cycle of my artistic self-therapy—the void one feels in sadness versus the life
one can create for themselves through art. Additionally, it serves as a visual metaphor for
how something discarded and recycled can be transformed into something beautiful, tying
back to the theme of the exhibition.
Your series not only transforms discarded materials into art but also challenges viewers to reconsider the value of what we often overlook. What message do you hope audiences will take away from experiencing this project?
That recycling things can be meaningful in a more artistic way than what you would think.
Creating paper, is a bit like cooking, and a good chef, picks their own ingredients, as I did
with the scraps that I used to make the paper, on this specific project. Emotional binding is
key, to feeling closer to what you create. I’d love to see more people experimenting with
paper making, for me it was a lovely process which I will definitely revisit soon!
Are there any upcoming projects or themes you’re excited to explore?
Currently, I’m working on my next short film. I’m excited to explore the possibilities of
merging my favorite mediums—incorporating hand-drawn elements into a live-action film or
music video. This project allows me to combine the two art forms I love the most: drawing
and filmmaking.
As always, I am drawn to people who exist on the margins—outsiders, misfits, the ‘weirdos’
of society. The opportunity to create something centered around them is something I’m really looking forward to!
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