What does the lethal exoskeleton of a cinematic predator have in common with the stiff, slightly uncomfortable posture of a local politician? For Mexican painter Emiliano Mondragón, the intersection of the monstrous and the mundane is where the most honest version of the human condition resides. As the Hamburg-based artist prepares for the Annual Exhibition of the HFBK, running from 12 February to 15 February, he is readying a collection of new works that serve as a visceral reflection on our hyper-connected, often exhausting existence.
At the centre of this debut is a painting titled ‘Watch Yourself Turn Into Nothing,’ a piece that merges human anatomy with the terrifying silhouette of a Xenomorph, the creature from the Ridley Scott’s ‘Alien’ film series. While the imagery leans into the legacy of cinematic horror, Mondragón uses it to dissect a more modern terror. He explains that beyond his admiration for H.R. Giger’s biomechanical nightmares, he is attempting to demonise our dependency on mobile phones. In his vision, an arm ends in a hand clutching a device which mimics the smaller mouth of the Alien – the one that pierces flesh and bone. “My intention was to show the phone as that killer mouth of the Alien,” he says, describing a tool of survival that eventually consumes its host.
His practice is a complex game of assembly, pulling limbs and torsos from the annals of art history and the pages of contemporary media. “More than being fascinated by the combination, I feel attracted to the poses of the models,” he says. He notes that he is drawn to particularly unnatural poses in paintings that seem normal at first glance, like weirdly bent torsos or contorted arms. There is a specific tension in these historical works that only reveals itself when one attempts to replicate the stance physically. “Then you realise that the model moved (either because they got tired or because the artist asked them to), and the pose reveals itself as something unreachable,” he says.
This fascination with physical impossibility extends to the modern day, where he scours the socials sections of magazines for photos of wealthy people who have not quite mastered the art of the pose. He finds the awkwardness their bodies express to be very interesting and fitting for the characters in his paintings. This blend of high art and the clumsiness of public visibility creates a friction that feels distinctly relevant to an age of constant self-documentation.
Born in Mexico City in 1996, Mondragón’s path to the HFBK halls in Hamburg began at the Morelos Art Center in Cuernavaca. His ascent in the contemporary scene has been punctuated by a series of notable exhibitions, ranging from the Museum of Geology and Laboral in Mexico City to the ICAT in Germany. Beyond the studio, he has established himself as a versatile voice in the art community through curatorial projects such as ‘Fragile Like Masculinity’ and as a moderator for the ‘Art From the Heart of Coyoacan’ roundtable. This breadth of experience has seen his work travel as widely as he has, with pieces now held in private collections across Mexico, the United States, Germany and Spain. This international footprint reflects a career that refuses to stay static, much like the shapeshifting figures that populate his canvases.
Painting is a physical, sensory act for Mondragón, one that he treats as a form of meditation or a private game. While he has spent the last two years teaching himself the delicate art of watercolours – creating tiny studies in sketchbooks that he says are not yet ready to see the light – his primary devotion remains to oil. “My favourite material is oil. It’s such a rich material, and so much fun. Sometimes, it feels like painting with butter,” he admits.
Despite the toxicity involved, he frequently uses his hands to apply the paint, finding a directness that brushes simply cannot provide. This physical approach has evolved since his move from Mexico City to Germany. The sensory explosion of his home country once dictated a palette of neon and high saturation, but the German climate has cooled his aesthetic. “Back in Mexico, I used to use brighter and much more saturated colours, sometimes even neon paints, but since relocating to Germany, my palette became more ochre and less saturated,” Mondragón says. Despite this lack of vibrancy, he’s not sad about it since this new iteration led him to discover a side of his work he couldn’t reach back in Mexico.
However, his evolution is not just about colour, but also about identity. One of his most heavy-hitting pieces, ‘Nahual Child (Unloved by His Mother),’ introduces a character that serves as a shapeshifting alter ego. Based on Mexican folklore, this child is not a monster in the traditional sense, but a creature struggling to shift its shape to be loved, or at least recognised, by his mother. Mondragón views this figure as the part of himself that has been hurt since childhood. “He revealed himself to me through a poem I wrote and made his way up to my paintings,” he confesses.
While his work often looks like it belongs in the realm of body-horror cinema, Mondragón insists his characters are not intended to be monstrous. “I don’t see the characters in my paintings as monsters. I am rather interested in showing the misfits, the socially awkward, the shy people, the creatures that people called leeches and threw into the dark just because they didn’t like their appearance – but oddly enough, they inhabit inside every one of us,” he explains. This reasoning becomes apparent in works like ‘Sometimes I Hate You’ or ‘You Will Fail,’ where the concept of channelling one’s insecurities is beautifully portrayed as a dizzying whirlwind of emotions.
“The creatures I create are an attempt to connect, to understand and to accept the part of me that is hurt; the part of me that is angry; the part of me that is full of regrets,” Mondragón says. By showing this vulnerability, he offers the viewer a chance to project their own hidden faces into the frame.
As he prepares to step into the HFBK exhibition, Mondragón balances his artistic output with a keen awareness of the irony of his position. His work deals with the burnout produced by hyper-connectivity, yet he recognises that success as an artist today requires participation in the very social media platforms that cause this exhaustion. He admits his own screen time is high and absolutely “terrifies him,” occasionally making him feel like a hypocrite, but he remains focused on making the best of the tools available to his generation. “I’ve learnt to shape my practice that way, and it really works for me,” he says.
Despite these heavy themes, there is a sense of joy in the unveiling of these new pieces. Talking about the upcoming show, he says, “I feel like a proud dad. As if my kids were graduating elementary school and I was excited to see them get their diplomas in front of everyone.” He hopes that those who walk through the gallery and feel that same digital exhaustion will find a sense of solidarity. “I would love for the people who feel the same exhaustion as me to feel that they are not alone. I cannot say that I offer a solution, but I will try to offer a supportive shoulder through my paintings.”
The Annual Exhibition of the HFBK in Hamburg runs from February 12 to February 15. Find out more here.
photography. courtesy of Emiliano Mondragón
words. Gennaro Costanzo
