We are speaking with the internationally acclaimed contemporary artist Krasimir Terziev on the occasion of the opening of his solo exhibition “Base and Superstructure” at Sarieva/Gallery in Sofia.

The exhibition will remain on view at the gallery space in DOT Sofia until April 26, 2026.

Hello, Krassimir! We’re meeting just days after the opening of the exhibition “Base and Superstructure”. What makes it timely?

I often think that life is a series of coincidences - I’m a freelance artist, and Vessy Sarieva invited me to participate in the exhibition about a year ago. Of course, the project didn’t come together overnight… For me, it’s a joy that over the past year things have unfolded in such a way that I’ve been opening an exhibition every few months, and that keeps me alive. The world is moving at such a pace that every exhibition begins to resonate with something current.

In the “Central” series, you work with different variations of perspective. What does each of them change in the way the viewer perceives space?

At the risk of becoming overly academic, the only useful reference I can think of is Martin Jay. He argues that the entire science of perspective emerged during the Renaissance to organize a new world, different from the medieval one. There is ideology embedded in this science, because it aligns the world into certain hierarchies. In the “Central” series, I emphasize the ideological power of perspective, which confines us within certain spaces. I don’t like to approach viewers in a forceful way - I prefer to leave room for imagination, for intellectual engagement in the perception of the work.

How has your interest in the center of Sofia changed over the years?

I wouldn’t say it has changed… It seems to me that we still haven’t reached the level of a society that has achieved even a minimal form of justice, which would allow me to look at this center in a new way. I’m still trying to resist it and to find ways to reduce the weight it places on us as citizens. Of course, each time the approach is different: one in the photomontages, another in the “Central”  series, a third in the sculpture in public space that stood at the site of the former Mausoleum for about a year and a half - such a symbolic place in the center invites big questions about the past, the future, and accordingly, our role in the present.

What determines the presence or absence of gold in your works? And what is its value today?

It all began quite innocently with a visual analogy between the yellow paving stones and gold, as well as between the shape of the paving stone and that of a gold bar. And in general, this strong angiography formed by several streets of yellow paving stones. From there came the first work with central perspective, because of the often-used media cliché “The Triangle of Power,” and central perspective is precisely the power of a central, all-seeing viewpoint.

This is also where all the theatrically staged rituals of power take place—some orchestrated by power itself, such as the demonstrations and parades before 1989, and others as gestures of resistance—all the protests after ’89.

Then came a perspective with two vanishing points, suggesting polarization. After that came  “Perspective Without a Vanishing Point,”  hinting at the unfortunate attempts to rearrange the yellow paving stones, which refused to settle into place, but also allowing for broader generalizations due to the symbolic order of rearrangement.

And the latest work, titled “Perspective: Earth Instead of Sky,” suggests how this very space can act as something that presses down on the horizon, enclosing it within its geometry. When this series emerged, I felt it could be the center of the exhibition—so I sent images to Vesi Sarieva. We both agreed to start from there.

Then I remembered that I actually had photomontages working with the same space—not with the yellow paving stones, but with the buildings we perceive as markers shaping its character. Later, I also recalled that, in terms of gold, I had an early work from 1994 that uses this material and could create a coherent thread over a longer period. And so, piece by piece, the puzzle came together.

In the photomontages, you arrange religious, political, and social symbols vertically. How did this image come about?

I often mix humor with serious matters in my work. I believe it’s the same in life. As the saying goes, “Thank goodness for jokes, so we can tell the truth.” My humor is often bitter, ironic, sometimes sarcastic… that’s my biographical reality. In this case, the series started from a book by Prof. Anna Krasteva, *“Liquid Secularism,”* in which she argues that many political leaders resort to the crutch of religious figures to legitimize themselves and their power.

That’s how the idea came in “Superstructure”—above the National Assembly building, we also have all these religious buildings: the Synagogue, the Mosque, Alexander Nevsky, the Russian Church. And of course, everything is crowned at the top by the building of the former Party House, suggesting that in many ways we still struggle to overcome the legacy of socialism.

After “Superstructure,”  the other work “Base and Superstructure”  appeared, in which this entire ensemble stands upon a colossal panel housing block.

What can we perceive in the mirrored works?

After these eight works in gold appeared, I felt the exhibition would become too heavy if everything were resolved in gold. The monotony would diminish the strength of the material’s effect. So I wanted to support the whole ensemble with one or two additional media. That’s how the mirrored foil works emerged.

Beyond all the narratives, the entire exhibition deals with technologies for producing space. In the case of these bent mirror sheets, I wanted to emphasize—through a spatial grid familiar from 3D modeling, from so-called Cartesian space—a soft, warped spatial network, conveying the peculiar feeling that we are living on shifting sands. There are no firm reference points in the world that provide us with security in political and social terms. For one reason or another, after having lived so long with the reference points of modernity, progress, civilization, and even the international order—everything we more or less took for granted—now seems to be bending. It’s as if the geometry of the entire world is changing.

What was your first encounter with DOT Sofia?

I attended the tour at the building’s opening, but I had known about it earlier. Vesi Sarieva had approached me to suggest works for the DOT Sofia collection. I was familiar with the project before it opened, but the physical experience is different from any prior discussion. The presentation of the building through the architects’ perspective, who spoke about the project and the ideas behind it, was important.

For me, the emergence of DOT Sofia is great news, because for the past five or six years my studio has been just 150 meters away. I was very happy when such art-related spaces began to appear, making the neighborhood, in a sense, mine as well. Gallery Punta and Cable Depot Gallery also opened. The neighborhood came alive artistically.

In the penthouse of DOT Sofia we see two works that correspond to each other—Program Apollo Albinos  and Program Apollo Melanist. Tell us more about them.

These works date from 2016–2017. At that time, I was interested in the genre of digital folklore, which, due to the ease and irresponsibility of online exchange, generates all kinds of phantasmagorias. For example, I had encountered comments about the American Apollo missions landing on the Moon and planting the American flag there “for eternity.”

Scientifically grounded hypotheses claimed that, due to the lack of atmosphere on the Moon, ultraviolet radiation is so strong that any colored textile exposed to it would bleach in no time. So hypothetically, the American flag on the Moon would now have turned into a white flag - a symbol exactly opposite to its original intent. This idea formed the basis of a photomontage, accompanied by the text “Years Later.”

From there came Apollo Albinos  and Apollo Melanist,  which are speculative visualizations - what makes us humans create selections in the world around us, more or less based on aesthetic preferences, toward white or toward black in this case? Based on such speculation (from speculare - to suppose, to reflect), I imagined what such a farm of selectively bred animals - only white or only black - would look like in an inhospitable space like the lunar surface.

Of course, this also refers to many other serious issues - all those dangerous racial ideologies that have repeatedly led to catastrophe.

In the end, these are just my own notes on the works, which may not be valid for others. When an image is open, it begins to lead its own life.