Interview — Olivia Zlota

If you are writing a guide for others (students, artists, researchers), suggest these 4 reading steps:

When critics discuss Zlota’s work, they invariably land on the texture. Her surfaces are not flat; they are archaeological digs of emotion. In one corner of a piece, you might find smooth, oiled realism. In another, thick impasto so rough it looks like burnt earth.

Q: How did you develop your signature technique? The one everyone tries to imitate now? olivia zlota interview

Olivia Zlota: (Laughs) "Imitation is flattery, but it’s also annoying. Look, the texture came from poverty. In my early twenties, I couldn’t afford large canvases. I was painting on cardboard, on old shipping crates. I’d mix my gesso with sand from the street, with coffee grounds, with ripped-up sheet music. I was trying to build a history into the board itself. If I painted a memory, I wanted the surface to feel like a memory—frayed at the edges, rough in the center, fading into obscurity. It wasn't intellectual. It was economic necessity."

This honesty is refreshing. In an era of digital art and NFTs, Zlota remains a fierce defender of the physical. She admits to owning a smartphone "only under duress" and keeps a flip phone for calls. "The algorithm wants you to scroll past pain quickly," she says. "I want you to stand in front of a canvas until your feet hurt." If you are writing a guide for others

Olivia Zlota is a Polish-born, London-based artist, curator, and writer. She is best known for work that sits at the intersection of:

Her practice often uses “low-tech” digital tools (glitch art, GIFs, early web aesthetics) to explore themes of ritual, intimacy, and resistance. She has exhibited internationally and contributed to publications like Artforum, Flash Art, and Contemporary And. When critics discuss Zlota’s work, they invariably land

In interviews, Zlota comes across as theoretically sharp, irreverent, and deeply self-aware — mixing academic references with internet slang and dark humor.