BY MARIA YIGOUTI
Catalyzed by a departure from traditional academia, Dora Jeridi’s artistic journey plunges into a deeper existential quest for truth beyond discourse. Forsaking the confines of intellectualism, she embraces a more corporeal mode of expression—instinctual and visceral—disrupting stasis and tapping into primal rawness. Each frantic composition unfolds as an undeciphered narrative, suspended in ambiguity and lingering in uncertainty—a poetic sojourn through pandemonium.
Installation view of Dora Jeridi’s Humanity at Perrotin New York (2025). Photographer: Guillaume Ziccarelli. ©Dora Jeridi / ADAGP, Paris & ARS, New York 2024. Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin.
In this interview, Dora Jeridi explores the conceptual underpinnings of Humanity, her first solo exhibition at Perrotin New York. Born in Paris in 1988 and now residing in New York, Jeridi offers a glimpse into her creative process as both artist and storyteller, immersing us into the cathartic surge that fuels her latest artistic expression, on display from January 11 to February 19, 2025.
Installation view of Dora Jeridi’s Humanity at Perrotin New York (2025). Photographer: Guillaume Ziccarelli. ©Dora Jeridi / ADAGP, Paris & ARS, New York 2024. Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin.
You have an academic foundation in both political history (M.A. in Modern and Contemporary History from Sciences Po) and fine arts (MFA from ENSBA, Paris). After transitioning from political history to visual art, how did the interplay between the structured, intellectual realm of discourse and the unbounded freedom of painting influence your approach to painting and storytelling? In what ways has this shift from verbal narrative to visual expression shaped the core of your artistic identity?
Dora: Originally trained as a political historian, I turned to painting as a refuge from the world of ideas. After nearly ten years of studying how to construct discourse, I came to realize that you can argue about anything, yet through discourse, I couldn’t capture a tangible sense of truth. I needed something that would provide this feeling in a more direct, obvious, and physical way. That’s when I turned to painting—silent in its form but incredibly expressive. My move into painting was a reaction against the world of discourse. However, I believe my background in history and my French roots give me a “richness in references.” I enjoy drawing on pictorial references, diverting them, and making them my own. This focus on reference is something deeply ingrained in the French humanities tradition.
Silent, 2024 Oil, oil stick, spray paint and charcoal on canvas 82 11/16 x 98 7/16 inches Photographer: Guillaume Ziccarelli. ©Dora Jeridi / ADAGP, Paris & ARS, New York 2024. Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin.
You often describe painting as an ‘intensification of reality,’ where compelling ambiguity defines your work, with fragmented figures and the interplay of vulnerability and strength evoking profound layers of meaning. How do you construct this sense of uncertainty?
Dora: The way I construct my paintings is very musical, always guided by a layering principle—superimposing layers with passages above and below, in front and behind, using effects of transparency or crossed-out elements. What matters most is finding the right balance. The same goes for creating formal ambiguity. There’s an instinctive quality to it, but the goal is to reach that point where just the right amount is said—neither too much nor too little—striking that in-between state. It’s a pursuit of subtlety, which sometimes succeeds more than others, though I’m not always satisfied with the outcome.
No Sleep, 2024 Oil, oil stick, charcoal and spray paint on canvas 90 9/16 x 72 1/16 inch Photographer: Guillaume Ziccarelli. ©Dora Jeridi / ADAGP, Paris & ARS, New York 2024. Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin.
Your work embodies a dynamic balance between raw, instinctual energy and a refined orchestration of color and form. How do you navigate the tension between control and spontaneity to achieve this equilibrium?
Dora: This is the most difficult part. I believe it’s where the true pain of painting comes from. You aim to create something that appears spontaneous, but it also has to be balanced, to flow correctly, to have the right rhythm—and that’s something you build up over time. The tension between control and release reaches its peak, and that’s when you suffer, sometimes questioning, ‘Why am I doing this? It’s so hard.’ In truth, I don’t have a clear method or recipe; you simply figure it out. It’s much like life—you just figure it out as best you can until it works.
Installation view of Dora Jeridi’s Humanity at Perrotin New York (2025). Photographer: Guillaume Ziccarelli. ©Dora Jeridi / ADAGP, Paris & ARS, New York 2024. Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin.
Your work frequently delves into the dissonance of the human experience, exploring themes of identity, vulnerability, and primal conflict. What personal or universal truths are you seeking to unravel through the figures and forms in your paintings?
Dora: I think a recurring obsession in my work is the incommunicability between human beings—how misunderstandings and miscommunications can lead to tragic outcomes. It’s a constant presence in some form. That’s why you’ll often find mouths or people shouting, calling out, or, conversely, completely silent in my work. I believe my attachment to figurative art comes from my need to preserve that tragic aspect, something that would be lost in complete abstraction As a human being, I can’t help but experience the world through the lens of my own scale, and the question of relationships remains so fundamental to the human condition. It fascinates me.
Dora Jeridi. Keep Talking, 2024. Oil and oil stick on canvas. 98 7/16 x 82 11/16 inches. Photographer: Guillaume Ziccarelli. ©Dora Jeridi / ADAGP, Paris & ARS, New York 2024. Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin.
How does your discomfort with the limitations of language influence your ability to convey complex ideas and emotions through painting, without relying on words? How do you see your paintings as a form of “visual speech” in contrast to the rigid structures of language, and what do you hope the viewer will “hear” in your visual language? Dora: I don’t expect anything from the viewer, nor do I paint with them in mind. Fortunately, I don’t;otherwise, I think I’d go crazy. When it comes to creating complexity in my work, it’s about introducing variation and weaving these elements together harmoniously, much like a musical composition. You must pay attention to the different textures—spray paint, oil sticks, charcoal—all of which bring distinct sensations. Each texture provides a unique physical experience, like biting into a pastry: you feel the crunch, the melt, the crisp, the spongy—and it all has to blend seamlessly. The same goes for painting but for the eyes. There’s a physical pleasure in this variety. What matters most is sensation—the evocative power of the images and how they suggest something deeper. I wouldn’tcall them visual speeches; they are emotional landscapes. There’s no discursive intent. I don’t always know what I’mlooking for, but when I find it, I feel it. In those moments, the sensation of truth is undeniable, though it’s hard to explain.
Tenderness, 2024 Oil and oil stick on canvas 78 3/4 x 59 1/16 inches Photographer: Guillaume Ziccarelli. ©Dora Jeridi / ADAGP, Paris & ARS, New York 2024. Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin.
Your choice of palette is integral to the emotional resonance of your paintings. How do you approach color selection, and what role does it play in evoking the emotional turbulence and intensity within each piece?
Dora: My relationship with my palette has evolved significantly. Early on, I studied classical painters like Velázquez and Titian, whose use of browns fascinated me for their depth and complexity. I worked with this brown palette for a long time, but eventually, I felt it lacked contemporaneity. I wanted to preserve its depth while introducing something fresher and more authentic. My early attempts, often mixing in bright, garish colors like fluorescent pinks and yellows, clashed with the brown background. Over time, I simplified my approach, moving toward brighter, less muddy backgrounds, though the palette still took a back seat to the figures themselves
For my exhibition at Perrotin, I faced a challenge: as the emotional weight of my work grew, it became harder to maintain the necessary distance. The intensity often caused me suffering, prompting me to question if this approach was sustainable. For Humanity, I shifted focus. I started with colored backgrounds—more complex than usual—without worrying about the figures, allowing for emotional distance. Once the figures were added, the process was less distressing as the painting had already established its own dynamic. The warmth of the palette provided a more welcoming context, even when the subjects themselves were unsettling. This contrast is key for me: I don’t want to coddle the viewer, but I don’t want to alienate them either. I aim for balance. In my palette, warm tones are paired with strong blacks, which act like low notes, adding weight and gravity. They serve as authoritative voices, grounding the composition and preventing it from becoming overly lyrical.
Dora Jeridi. Lonely Child, 2024. Oil, oil stick, and charcoal on canvas. 98 1/2 x 78 3/4 inch. Photographer: Guillaume Ziccarelli. ©Dora Jeridi / ADAGP, Paris & ARS, New York 2024. Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin.
Your artistic practice synthesizes classical inspirations—such as Velázquez, Titian, and el Greco—with modern cinematic references, particularly Béla Tarr, alongside a recurring use of animal iconography. How do you reconcile these seemingly disparate influences, and what metaphysical dialogue do they create within your work?
Dora: I see myself operating like a DJ, working with a sampling logic. I take fragments of references—whether pictorial, cinematic, or otherwise—and I cut, distort, and reassemble them into a new composition that feels entirely my own, with a rhythm that’s often quite electric. My approach is deeply musical. Growing up in the 1990s, I immersed myself in genres like big beat, hip-hop, techno, and electro, all of which revolved around the principle of sampling. Initially, I wrestled with a moral question about the legitimacy of borrowing from these sources. While I haven’t fully resolved this on a moral level, I understand that creatively, my impulse is to do so. There’s something playful in engaging with these references, and I’ve chosen to embrace it, following my desire without hesitation. Otherwise, I don’t approach painting from a metaphysical standpoint, even though being a painter is certainly an existential adventure. What matters most to me is creating a new poetry that pulsates.
You’ve mentioned the influence of jazz and improvisation in your artistic process. How does this philosophy of errancy and contradiction manifest in your work, and how does improvisation enable a more intuitive exploration of your subjects?
Dora: I find the most beautiful moments in painting to be unexpected—those that occur beyond our control. To allow for these moments, you must create space for them, which can be challenging as it requires letting go of your will. In this way, musical improvisation, particularly jazz, offers a fitting comparison. Letting go of control doesn’t mean descending into nonsense; instead, it becomes a physical act, deeply connected to the body. The will recedes, while the eyes, brain, and body engage in a focused dialogue, intuitively recognizing what is beautiful and knowing when to simply let it unfold.
Howling Horses, 2024 Oil, oil stick, spray paint, ball-point pen and charcoal on canvas 82 11/16 x 98 7/16 inches Photographer: Guillaume Ziccarelli. ©Dora Jeridi / ADAGP, Paris & ARS, New York 2024. Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin.
Your canvases are often described as “battlefields” where raw emotions collide. Does this intensity stem from a cathartic process of release, or is it a deliberate act of challenging and provoking the viewer? How do you envision your work engaging with its audience on a visceral level?
Dora: The intensity undoubtedly arises from a cathartic release—there’s a deeply psychological element to it. But I also hold high expectations for my work; it must be artistically challenging, or I get bored. I don’t consciously think about the viewer when I paint. Instead, I focus on creating what I would want to see in paint, which is, ultimately, a matter of personal taste. I’m drawn to things that are harmonious yet contrasted—warm but raw, accessible yet complex. I don’t dwell on how the viewer experiences this visceral quality of the work. Over time, I’ve come to understand that this aspect is beyond my control. It wasn’t a conscious decision to make visceral paintings; it’s simply what happens when I paint. It’s like one’s character—you don’t choose it, you just are.
Keep Talking, 2024 Oil and oil stick on canvas 98 7/16 x 82 11/16 inches Photographer: Guillaume Ziccarelli. ©Dora Jeridi / ADAGP, Paris & ARS, New York 2024. Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin.
What enduring impression do you hope your work leaves on those who encounter it? How do you envision your legacy redefining contemporary art’s narrative and its engagement with the complexities of the human condition? Dora: I don’t envision my legacy. I don’t think about that!
Dora Jeridi’s solo exhibition, Humanity, is currently on display at Perrotin New York, running through February 19, 2025.
