Joran Stamatakakos (AU) 
To Fill Up Empty Things

31/3 - 30/4 2023

Opening: Friday 31/3, 17.00-21.00

Curator: Richard Krantz (SE)


Galleri CC proudly presents To fill up empty things, Joran Stamatakakos’ first solo exhibition since graduating with a Masters in Fine Art from Konstfack in 2017.

Joran was born in 1982 in Albury, Australia. His work has been exhibited in numerous group and duo exhibitions, at such places as _konsthall, Galleri ID:I, HenProjects, Studio Pank, Hjorten Sculpture Park and Crum Heaven. These all are, like Joran himself, based in Stockholm, which makes us even happier to have the opportunity to introduce Joran’s work to a Malmö audience.



VITAMIN J
- a short essay about Joran Stamatakakos, by exhibition curator Richard Krantz


“Sometimes there’s a man… I won’t say a hero, ‘cause what’s a hero? But sometimes, there’s a man. And I’m talking about the Dude here. Sometimes, there’s a man, well, he’s the man for his time and place. He fits right in there. And that’s the Dude, in Los Angeles.
-The Stranger, Big Lebowski


I got to know the artistic practice of Joran Stamatakakos while we both studied at Konstfack between 2015-2017. Joran was like some kind of force there, who roamed the building, almost a sort of otherworldly being. He drilled, hammered, sawed, sculpted and built. Roughly and uninhibited. In the studio of course, but more often than not outside of it, when the studio quickly became too cramped or too small. He couldn’t really be contained. I sometimes thought the prestigious school’s outer walls would simply give way. I remember him constantly wanting to play table tennis with his fellow students. His call of “Up for a game?” could be heard through the walls, multiple times a day. He ran the itinerant gallery Inside Gallery, which like his art, temporarily commandeered various spaces at the school, producing short exhibitions.


It was not just myself, our fellow students and teachers who became acquainted with Stamatakakos’ art. Konstfack’s Property department also had that pleasure. They were constantly coming across his maximalist sculptures, often constructed from the discarded pieces of wood from the spoiled students of Design. They could turn up all over the place. Perhaps sometimes a little too close to fire doors and emergency exits. Not the best if a fire broke out, of course. And of course extra work for the Property department - who surely already had their hands full with endless entitled youths with their ‘curated’ playlists, forever organising parties in corridors, as if it was some kind of right for having made it into a cool school.


However, I would like to claim that Joran was driven by something else. Not some self-entitled privilege which didn’t care who had to clean up after him. No, it was different with Joran. Perhaps one could call it something as banal as creative joy. And surely no stupid floor plan of an old telephone factory should be allowed to stand in the way of art? I would even claim that Joran took responsibility. Joran was forced to come up with heaps of tricks and solutions to be able to store his giant monstrosities of sculpture and installation. He sawed them in half to get them through doors to later assemble them with something else. He hid them in culverts. After a while he mounted wheels on all the works to make things easier. He realised that if they were constantly in transit, always on the move, no caretaker could really say anything about it. They were, like, just being moved. In that way he became some sort of worker, with this task between the hours of 9 am - 5 pm each day. A kind of meaningless drudgery but with a clear purpose. To move things around. Roll. Saw. Shift. Carry. Get it in the lift. Get it out. More poetic, more artistic, and above all more fun than a fucking playlist of the latest electro.


I don’t know if Konstfack was the place Joran needed for his practice, but undeniably it was the practice that Konstfack needed. Unavoidably yet inadvertently it asked questions of the institution - what sculptures may be built? Are you limited to your assigned square metres? Why the hell do design students chuck out containers full of good building materials every day? And so on.


Joran uses an ad-hoc method when he builds and makes art. He joins materials together, whether discarded or new. He does it roughly and without pretension. At the same time he is a delicate painter and draughtsperson, to then all of a sudden be crawling under a blanket across a room eating a line of lollies in a performance. Like some kind of amoeba. Or else he is making a fanzine, or an animation in MSPaint. You can’t really pin down Joran, and that is what makes his art particularly important, in this time of streamlined dealer gallery art and flat, easy to swallow themes.


I now realise at the end of this text that in parts of it Joran sounds like he is dead. He’s not. He is alive and kicking. And now we are presenting his first solo exhibition. It’s about fucking time. And I’m glad to be a part of it. It’s the injection of vitamins we didn’t know that we all needed. Vitamin J.

English translation: Florence Wild




Photo: Johan Lundin