He was silent yet loud. He was rebellious. He exists to create. Born in 1969 in Cairo, Armen Agop Guerboyan belonged to the second generation of genocide survivors who settled in Egypt. He graduated from Helwan University’s Faculty of Fine Arts in 1992. In 2000 he won the Prix de Rome and settled in Pietrasanta, the northern Tuscany town where he is still based. Agop’s works are not abstractions but meditations on simplicity. Free of narrative, messages, or resemblances, they are not limited to their own volume but occupy the entire surrounding space.
At the Giardini della Biennale historic park, standing in front of the Egyptian Pavilion on its opening day, contemporary artist Armen Agop, the curator of “Silence: Between the Tangible and the Intangible”, delivered a moving speech inviting viewers into one of the most interesting exhibitions of the 61st edition of the prestigious Venice Biennale. Almost in tears, he pointed to the word “Egitto” on the outer wall of the pavilion, reflecting, “standing here representing Egypt is very special for me, thanks to the Egyptian Ministry of Culture for its trust. When I say ‘Egypt’, this is not a country, not a government, not a system.
Egypt is much bigger than that. As you can tell from my name, it’s a typical Armenian one, my grandfather was a survivor of the Armenian Genocide, he was rescued by French boats which arrived in Port Said and settled in the refugee camps there. Egypt, instead of following the Ottoman Empire’s orders, welcomed the Armenians who fled the genocide, and that’s how I am the proud Egyptian citizen I am today. Egypt has many many layers, it’s beyond how we try to define countries and governments. Egypt created gods, religions, languages, hosted ethnicities and all that merges into whatever we understand by ‘Egypt’.
For me, it is something very deep, beyond any definition. Egypt knows how to handle all the questions that make us pause: nationality, race, religion, ethnicity. Thousands of years ago Egypt had kings and queens who came from Europe — Cleopatra from Macedonia, Mohamed Ali from Albania — and it not only welcomed them but gave them complete freedom and opportunities to live as Egyptians without limits.”
In his message, the artist suggested that most of humanity’s problems today would be solved if we just looked at our past and listened to our inner voice: “We have the answer inside of us, we don’t need to read articles or books or go to social media to know what’s wrong and what’s right. Egypt demonstrated the solutions and my being here now is a good example of that.” Agop emphasised that Egypt presents a successful model for addressing the current global crisis.
“We proved in the past that we can live together, without separation and without judging each other or discriminating against each other. Let’s not listen to the external voices that overload us. The Egyptian Pavilion gives us the chance to discover ourselves in silence, that’s why I believe art can change us, not in a superficial way. It gives us the chance to unite with ourselves, and once we unite with ourselves we unite with the whole universe.”
The language of silence that Egypt speaks at the Biennale is “more of an invitation than a message”, as Agop elaborated: “I believe engaging with an art work is an interiorising process in its essence. So, externalising words, comments, or judgements — be they praise or criticism — creates an obstacle to interiorising the radiated human experience in the art work. The silence of the visitors is a key element in connecting with the art work at a deeper level, and it helps to open the pathways to their inner world. I knew that what I was asking for was more than ambitious and I wasn’t sure how the majority of visitors would react but because of my deep belief in this concept I wanted to go for it.”
Agop ended his speech on a typically humble note. “I owe it all to the sand, to the desert, to the sun, to the heat, to the ancient Egyptian sculptures which gave me inner energy and stayed with me from childhood till today,” he said, asking the audience’s permission to clap along with them in honour of those values that Egypt has radiated and transmitted continuously for millennia.
Speaking to Al-Ahram Weekly about his expectations and how well the visitors accepted the concept, he said, “the public have been positively responsive and I am very pleased with their willingness to join me in the experience, to listen to the silence of the works and the pavilion.”
Agop believes silence is not mute. And because we are surrounded by loudness and continuous aural output, globally, he emphisises that, in art, silence is one of the most important elements. “Observing sculpture and painting in silence opens the door to our inner world, so we have the chance to hear our inner voice, allowing our consciousness to surge.” He said that in human heritage we have experienced the need for unification with ourselves through spiritual rituals which often required slowness and introspection.
There are three large sculptures and two paintings displayed in the three rooms of the pavilion, which dates back to 1938. A vertical piece that weighs three tonnes, a round one that weighs 3600 kg and the smaller one that weighs 850 kg.
Following the “Gesture Mantra” process as the artist calls it, one of the paintings (6m x 3,64m), in ink on canvas, is a dark space with overlapping dots that repeat until a point of luminosity is reached and light emerges out of darkness. It took months to complete. The other painting (4m x 3m), though aiming for something similar, is the opposite. It was finished in one session over a single day. He applied blue and purple colours in their darkest forms, after which he scratched, partially removing the colours to reveal a brightness below.
“It was another way of bringing light out of the darkness. There are several things in common between the two paintings, which are also contradictory at the same time,” Agop explained.
“Look but don’t touch” has been the unspoken rule governing the viewer’s relationship to art and at museums and galleries, separating the observer from the work. The Egyptian artist chose to rebel against this concept by reshaping the encounter into something more intimate, creating a live dialogue between art and art lovers. He invites visitors to touch the art work that weighs 850 kg, and sometimes, maybe, make it swing.
“I have been working on the ‘Touch’ series for more than two decades. It’s a continuous series which I keep returning to over the years. Human beings have a very intimate relationship with stone. Ever since we came into being we have used hard rock to safeguard our physical existence. We used stone tools to defend ourselves and to hunt for survival, and when we needed to extend our existence spiritually, we used them to ‘make our gods’.” Agop believes that our physical and spiritual existence have been dependent on hard rock.
“So the invitation to touch the granite work evokes our inherent human experiences. What we touch, touches us. Granite is volcanic material that comes out of the core of the earth, so by touching it we not only reconnect with our anthropological past but also with the heart of the earth. So this is a moment of unity with our nature and the nature of our environment.”
And because the artist has had a special relationship with granite since an early age, surrounded by the ancient Egyptian granite sculptures, he grew curious about the sacred energy those statues transmit. “I could perceive strength, pride, confidence and dignity in each granite sculpture. Even though I did not believe in these gods nor did I have any emotional connection with this belief system, I could not ignore the impact they had on me. Every granite sculpture had its contained inner energy.” He insisted that this was one of the main driving forces behind his exploration of the inner world of sculpture.
“Granite is an ancient material that existed before human beings, so it has a long history in existence. In Armenian we have a word, koyadevel, which literally means ‘to keep on existing’; perhaps granite fulfills that meaning for me.”
Agop spends a lot of time with the granite, he shares his life with it, he says. They have to come to an agreement. “Sometimes granite says no. Working with granite cannot be one-sided. Slowness is a key factor, which helps me find out what to suggest to the granite.” It’s a negotiation that came up again in a different context: bringing the eight-tonne granite sculptures to the pavilion. It was a very challenging process. “I had to change transport companies until we managed to install the sculptures properly,” Agop says.
The artist thinks that the desert played a huge role in the simple lines and purity of ancient Egyptian art. “My experiences in the desert have left untraceable influences that I’ve only recently come to recognise as maintaining a deep connection with this essence. In the desert, where there seems to be nothing — that’s where I learned to see.”
The renowned Egyptian artist Mohamed Abla, who is currently in Venice at the Biennale, was keen to visit, knowing that Agop is the curator.
“I had nominated him a few years back for the Biennale, but it didn’t come true at the time. This year, the pavilion is beautiful and reflects the Egyptian spirit. The moment you enter, you feel the spirit of the movie The Mummy and the silence of the temples. The exhibition turnout is increasing, and I was fortunate to meet the artist. The press showed much interest in covering the exhibition, and art critics made comparisons between the pavilions, praising the Egyptian contribution. Congratulations to Egypt on this truly outstanding exhibition,” Abla posted on Facebook.
According to the artist-curator the average daily turnout at the Egyptian Pavilion is 5600 visitors. The Guardian published a photo gallery about the Biennale in which the Egyptian Pavillion was the first in the series of photos.
Agop revealed that this was not the first time he was invited by the Ministry of Culture to represent Egypt at the Biennale. “I was invited to curate the Egyptian Pavilion in 2011 but declined at the time because it was during the revolution and I felt it was no time for my voice.” Still, when the invitation came last December, it was a surprise. “It took me a while until I started to visualise the ‘Silence’ pavilion, which though not a foreign idea was in the early stages of research and articulation.”
Growing up between two ancient civilisations induced in Agop a continuous urge to reassess his values. “Though it felt difficult in early life, I later realised that it was a privilege to experience both contrasting cultures.”
This dialogue between two strands of heritage drove him to develop a perspective beyond the geographical boundaries. Agop’s work is in the permanent collections of the Egyptian Modern Art Museum; Mathaf: Arab Museum of Modern Art in Doha; the Villa Empain/Boghossian Foundation in Belgium; the Aswan Open Air Museum; the Barjeel Art Foundation, UAE; the City of Neckarsulm, Germany; and the Coral Springs Museum of Art in Florida, USA. A black granite sculpture has been displayed at the entrance of Al-Alamein Hotel, in Alamein since 2018.
In 2010 Armen Agop received the International Umberto Mastroianni Award at the Piemonte Sculpture Biennale in Italy for a fountain sculpture carved from Lucerne stone, which later was installed in the garden of the Piazza train station in Barge. In 2013 he was awarded the Premio Sulmona and the Presidential Medal of the Italian Republic for an untitled bronze work.
The 61st Venice Biennale opened to the public on 9 May and is ongoing through 22 November 2026, with 99 participating countries. The Giardini Park dates back to 1807, when Napoleon Bonaparte ordered the creation of public gardens in that part of Venice.
* A version of this article appears in print in the 21 May, 2026 edition of Al-Ahram Weekly
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