Annotations cc: Alexandre de Betak

Alexandre de Betak, artist, art director and set designer, is renowned for his ability to orchestrate both the ephemeral and the monumental. Crossing disciplines and scales, his career reflects a restless curiosity and a commitment to exploration, leaving a lasting imprint on contemporary culture. The conversation itself mirrors the creative ethos Alex describes: a reflection, an oscillation between familiarity and novelty, a space where ideas are layered, interrogated, and allowed to resonate anew.

Anoe: Your interdisciplinary practice, ranges from fashion shows and events, to objects, interiors, and architecture. As I found out recently, you are developing an independent artistic practice as well. What would you say has been the underlying motivation behind it?

Alex: The motivation, I think, has been a quest for exploration, a quest for emotion. There’s something very childish in the practice that comes from experimentation. From a very young age, I started combining aesthetics and artistic control — from my robots to my books, to layouts and assemblages of images and objects, as well as the exploration of movement and light to perceive things differently and see what that does.

Thinking back, I’ve been doing that all my life. It’s an exploration of how one can perceive and be moved differently by the association of the same things. You can exercise the same thing in many different ways. And since you mentioned scale, I think scale is one of the elements I’ve always explored and enjoyed playing with. Maybe I was attracted to fashion shows because of scale, or maybe it’s the other way around.

I’ve always been fascinated by opposites, like many people, but opposites are what attract and relate to me most. Realism has always been an important part of me. I’ve probably played with scale as a way to express realism. I remember shows I’ve done — like one in New York, in a room 100 feet wide, 300 feet long, and 90 feet high, with no colors, only smoke. It was the largest room in New York, maybe in the world. My first thought walking in was to circumscribe it with one bell; a big bell, maybe a thousand white bells. We started the experience with one. I worked for many years in that room for different projects.

I’m sorry, it’s a long answer to a short question. But your question was about motivation, and I think the answer is: everything. Many things motivate me to do what I do, and most of them go back to my earliest years. I’ve just added more obsessions to my obsessions. I’ve never let go of any of them.

AM: You spoke about exploration, and there’s something about light that always evokes that — an act of revelation. Light frames, defines, and creates atmosphere; it reveals fragments of space or the presence of figures within it. It also carries a metaphorical weight; it exposes, it unveils. In the Renaissance and Baroque periods, light and shadow were fluid, essential forces. I feel that light plays a similarly central role in what you describe — even darkness.

ADB: It’s something that became very natural. While a more traditional artist starts with a white page, my “white page” was, very early on, a black box. I intentionally blackened it because it inspired me more — to highlight with light or with shadow what I wanted to paint.

I’ve not only done black boxes — I’ve also done white boxes, mirror boxes. I like to call every single space a “box,” even when it’s huge. I’ve done a lot of them. My evolution is an accumulation of explorations of the same ideas, the same obsessions, with new ones layered on top. The exploration continues over the same topics.

I think creativity in life is exploration. The medium doesn’t matter that much. I’m not a master of any of them; I’ve completely improvised all my life. I’ve learned while doing, not by studying. Certain practices require talent I may not have… I can’t paint with my hands, but I can paint with my head. Creatively, anyone can use any medium. It’s just a matter of how your body lives in or around it.

AM: I feel there’s a difference in how one responds to time and scale.  The scale of a project determines the kind of detail one can explore, while in expansive spaces a certain surrender becomes necessary.

ADB: You’re right. There are two factors — time and space. I’ve always been drawn to play with both. I probably fell into doing shows because they involve both and many other mediums.

When you add time, it becomes an experience — kinetic or theatrical. When you bring light and time together, and movement, it becomes an experience.

AM: There’s a certain freedom that an artistic practice can offer compared to commissioned work. Your projects feel cohesive, yet each comes with its own limits and possibilities. What has drawn you toward the artistic practice?

ADB: I want to believe there are freedoms — though perhaps fewer than people think. From the outside, people say, “You’re so lucky, the budgets are unlimited!” But the reality is, as budgets grow, so do expectations and responsibilities. In that context, to a certain degree, artistic freedom becomes smaller, which is understandable. The wider the audience, the more acceptable and universal your ideas have to be. The more people you must please, the more technical constraints you have. There are always limitations — time, budget, creative agreements. And now, with social constraints — political correctness, cultural sensitivity — the limitations have multiplied. I understand why, and I respect it. But it also means more restrictions. I’ve always found that fascinating: how to push boundaries within those limits.

 

AM: Certain limitations can also inspire responsibility; ways to bring other cultural influences into a new setting.

ADB: Exactly. Limitations are challenges. Artists need challenges to push further, to innovate. I’ve played with limitations all my life. Recently, I chose to dedicate more time to a similar but more personal artistic practice. At some point, I felt my mind needed a new challenge. The fashion show exists to promote a product. There’s nothing wrong with that, but after doing it for so long, I felt the world didn’t need more bags and shoes. I wanted to use my talents not just to promote luxury but to promote ideas. I want to explore complete artistic freedom with no commercial or political restrictions.

AM: How does that affect or relate to your process — your artistic or design routine?

ADB: The preliminary phase is often more about a global feeling than a medium. My only recurring process is the freedom of process. I start blank every time. I revisit ideas freely, combining old obsessions with new ones. Reflection is one of my key themes. I love metal. Extreme contrasts and complementary dualities are always part of what I do, often unconsciously.

People say, “You’re changing,” but I’m not. I’m continuing what I’ve always done. I’m just removing the commercial objectives. I’ll keep exploring the same elements — light, movement, contradiction, emotion — just without the product. I’m building my own studio, where I can create large light installations; no commissions, just explorations. When people say I’m changing, I tell them: no, I’m doing exactly the same thing. I’ve just removed the beautiful girl walking on top of it — and the bag and shoes she was wearing.

AM: Metal, like light or reflection, carries a sense of infinity. It holds a kind of neutrality that transcends the world, something almost unexplainable. It ties to the idea of exploration — of asking questions rather than seeking answers.

ADB: I agree. It’s a quest. You can ask the same question and give it a temporary answer. There’s no definitive answer. Some artists explore one big theme their whole life. Others, like me, explore variations across mediums. Fashion shows are paradoxical; they demand something new every time. I conditioned myself never to repeat, or at least to evolve ideas each time.

AM: I wonder if repetition can be a strategy, like Sol LeWitt, whose systematic approach became his medium.

ADB: Yes, but I don’t think that’s strategy. The system is a tool, an exploration of variations of the same thing. I’m very sensitive to that. But in today’s world, repetition often becomes a brand expectation; a recognizable style that’s demanded. There’s a fine line between continuing exploration and merely repeating yourself. That fine line motivates me to stay in exploration, not repetition.

AM: That also touches on the question of motivation. When one’s drive arises from sensibility, it grants a certain freedom; when it stems from recognition or power, it risks becoming confining.

ADB: Exactly. There can be many forms of motivation, but what truly matters is which one leads. Art should push us to re-question everything. That’s one of its greatest roles. The world has more access to knowledge than ever, yet people seem more narrow-minded. That’s scary. Originally, art was made for nothing, for no function, but even the non-functional can move emotions, trigger thought, or create experience.

AM: It may not serve a function, but it fulfills a need — the need to think differently, to move thought forward.

ADB: Exactly. Art helps us question what we’re told, what we think we know. It helps us re-question everything. That’s what creative work should do — open the mind.

AM: I’ll keep that — “question everything.”

ADB: And maybe that’s what your project highlights — questioning. We didn’t really talk about design or architecture, but it doesn’t matter. It’s a bigger picture.

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Text: Anoe Melliou
Images: Courtesy of Takbe Studio