Gabriel Massan

My parents were both into mainstream art, not so many museums and galleries. My father, when he was young, used to be a dancer and actor. On my mum’s side, she was deeply interested in samba, especially related to the samba schools. I come from a small town near Rio, which has a famous samba school called Beija-Flor, which translates as the hummingbird. I took acting classes for many years as a kid, becoming passionate about drama and cinema. My father would write my lines for presentations, while my mum would help me practice. I became interested in computer games, particularly The Sims, which sparked my interest in creating my own content. I started making YouTube videos, creating dramas and soap operas, inspired by the telenovelas. Additionally, I grew up listening to the famous TV host Xuxa, as my mum was a fan. Like every other kid, I was passionate about cartoons and animals, but I was fascinated by creating my own stories and worlds from a young age. This allowed me to escape the intensity and violence and war on drugs of my neighbourhood in Rio, providing a fantastical approach to dealing with my reality.

Exactly. There was a sort of limitation on where I could go, what I could do, what I could study, and even the type of relationships I could develop in that environment. This backdrop shaped my life in subtle yet significant ways, pushing me to retreat into my own space. The external world was fraught with intensity, stress, and violence, making it challenging to navigate. Consequently, I found solace in a fantastical approach, a means of coping with my harsh reality while allowing myself to dream.

As I entered my teenage years, things became complicated in my household, and becoming an artist, other than an actor, wasn’t something familiar to us. I didn’t have much exposure to real artists outside of school settings. So, I initially decided to study advertising for college in Minas Gerais, as it seemed like a way to maintain my creativity. Then when back in Rio, I felt restricted by the routine and lack of time for study due to long distance commuting and the need to work to pay for my studies. Also, I realised advertising couldn’t fulfil my creative aspirations. So, I made a pivotal decision to pursue visual arts and I applied to enter the visual art school in São Paulo. The funny thing was that I did a series of interviews to get an important job in a very big company in Rio. So, I was in the final phase of selection for the big job. Surprisingly, the interview for admission to the visual arts programme coincided with the last phase of the job interview. I chose to follow my passion for art, leading me to São Paulo where I began my career.

Yeah, just a single decision has the power to alter everything, your entire life.

My first time in Europe, actually my first time out of Brazil was for that residency. The thing is that while I was living in São Paulo, I participated in a couple of exhibitions and was developing my own technique. It was like I was seeing that what I was doing was starting to make sense, at least to me. Because at that time, the digital world was not something that we fully understood as digital art. People would often categorise it as new media or video art, but the concept of digital art before the pandemic was quite different from what it is now. It was challenging for me in Brazil to be recognised as a digital art artist because most people saw my work as design. Therefore, most of the commissions I received while in Brazil were design related. I was working for large companies as a freelancer, but it was all within the realm of the creative industry, not real commissions for art spaces. Then, I applied for Etopia Centre for Art and Technology in Zaragoza with my friend Igi Ayedun, and we were accepted. I knew from that moment on, I would be exploring new avenues in my life. While in São Paulo, I felt like I was stuck in a cycle, constantly meeting the same people, and being suggested for the same types of jobs. I felt the urge to break out of this pattern and try something different. Even though I had achieved my dream of living independently in downtown São Paulo and was content with my work, I knew there was more out there for me to explore. So, I took the risk to leave behind the stability I had created for myself. It was the first time I had my own space and was financially stable, but I felt compelled to pursue something more. I wanted to further develop my technique and truly establish myself as an artist. At that moment, I still felt like I hadn’t reached my full potential as an artist because the institutional space in Brazil wasn’t fully embracing these new technologies in art.

I had an amazing experience in the residency, being in Europe, I had friends in Berlin, and I knew there was a huge movement of digital artists and a vibrant community of digital artists there. So, I felt that I needed to try. But before moving to Berlin, I wanted to explore London and Paris first. I spent some time in Paris, but it wasn’t my thing. Then, in January 2020, I finally moved to Berlin. But just after one month, the pandemic hit.

The reason why I moved from Rio to São Paulo was that in Rio the school is kind of privileged because the courses there are expensive. And it’s in a place in Rio that is very touristic. Everything around the school, places to eat, etc are super expensive. Plus, as I said I was spending more time in public transport than in class. And of course, the references that were being presented there had nothing to do with the things I was interested in. When I studied video art there, most of the references presented to me were Marina Abramovic and sometimes the Fluxus group. And not that much. They would not talk about Nam June Paik, and of course they would not talk about non-white Brazilian artists, basically non-existent. There was nothing about individual artists or similar topics. At that time, all my references were from Asian cinema because I love it. Like Akira Kurosawa and particularly admired Hirokazu Koreeda. So, most of my understanding of video came from cinema and cartoons. I would bring those references to the class, and my professor would hate it all the time.

She would give us exercises because the first course that I took was video performance and video installation. But within the world of video performance, I wasn’t feeling it. The last class I attended was when my professor asked me if I knew what performance was. All the exercises we did needed to be presented to the whole class, and everyone needed to present their opinion about your work. That day, I was tired because it took three hours to get there, and with the heat at 42°C, it was just too much. So, I decided not to go back. Essentially, I completed all my final works that I needed to present, handed them to my professor, and then I moved to São Paulo. I felt I was wasting time trying to explain myself. Of course, I knew what performance was, but maybe I was just suggesting something that made sense to me, and at least we could discuss it. But that wasn’t the approach the professor took. However, we never had a big argument. It was just that one question that was really hurtful to me, and sometimes one situation can make you change your mind about things you’re doing in your life.
I heard many criticisms of my art, and some people haven’t recognised me as an artist, especially because of the digital sculpting and games I was creating, which are relatively new. When I started, I used to post everything on social media or participate in small exhibitions with friends, and people would always analyse and share their opinions. Unfortunately, most of the feedback wasn’t constructive or helpful. So, I felt the need to adjust.

Yes, upon leaving Brazil and arriving in Europe, I found myself in a place where people already saw me as an artist. In Brazil, they were witnessing my journey towards becoming an artist, but for most, I hadn’t reached that status yet. However, when I arrived in Europe, I was already considered an artist from the beginning. This helped me build my self-esteem and feel confident about my work. It was the right time to make the move, as it coincided with a boom in the digital arts, and I was embraced by both the creative industry and institutional art spaces. Looking back, I believe I made the best decision.

I’ve been living here since, as I said, since 2020, it’s been more than four years now. I hated Berlin for three years and that’s when I moved to Paris. I stayed in Paris for one year and I was all the time missing Berlin. There is something amazing about Berlin, it’s just people don’t care about the way you look.

I feel like I can truly be myself here. I can run errands, attend exhibitions, and not fret about societal norms or expectations. This sense of freedom allows me to feel more connected to myself. Additionally, I appreciate the quietness, the silence, as it gives me ample time to think and reflect, making my life much calmer. That’s why I enjoy Berlin; it provides me with the space I need to reflect on anything and everything.

The same thing here. I think Germans from Berlin can be a bit challenging to deal with, as they tend to be more direct and, at times, appear rude in their interactions. The city itself contributes to this toughness, with its bustling atmosphere, constant activity, and political significance. Being the centre of political power, Berliners are often preoccupied with political decisions and bureaucratic matters. Despite Berlin’s reputation for being free-spirited and wild, it’s as well a city that holds significant influence over the country’s direction. Having spent time traveling around Germany, including Bavaria, I’ve noticed differences in people’s attitudes. While Germans elsewhere may be more helpful and warm, Berliners often exhibit a straightforward and less empathetic approach, particularly in professional or transactional settings. This contrasts with the Latin American tendency for warmth and dramatic expression. However, I’ve come to appreciate the clarity and efficiency that comes with directness. In Berlin, situations are often clearer, making problem-solving more straightforward compared to the sometimes-convoluted paths found in Brazil.

True.

I find that my friendships have deepened significantly, as we engage in meaningful conversations, respectful debates, and lengthy discussions on various topics. I value individuals who are open-minded, willing to entertain diverse perspectives, and capable of engaging in constructive dialogue while still maintaining mutual respect and affection. In today’s polarised world, it’s increasingly challenging to connect with those who hold differing views, as many seem unwilling to engage in meaningful conversation or explain their beliefs.
Personally, I am a calm individual who appreciates others with a similar demeanour, yet not in a passive way. I am attracted to people who show warmth through their actions: like hugs, hand-holding, and genuine compliments, reflecting the affectionate upbringing I received from my parents. In my family, emotions were openly expressed, my parents always told me they love me and why they like me, and honest discussions about feelings were encouraged, fostering a supportive and comforting environment.
Having grown up in a household characterised by intensity, noise, and drama, I now seek tranquillity and serenity in my surroundings. Unlike the gossip and drama-filled circles I encountered in Brazil, I prefer friendships grounded in sincerity and direct communication, where problems are addressed openly and resolved face-to-face. By maintaining a healthy distance from emotional explosions and prioritising daily communication and resolution, I find life to be more manageable and fulfilling.

Certainly, I can relate to that as well. Similar to your niece’s approach, it’s becoming quite common nowadays. For instance, in my case, I met my partner back in 2018, but our initial interaction wasn’t particularly romantic or intimate. We simply had a conversation at a friend’s gathering. However, we exchanged Instagram handles and started following each other. Towards the end of 2019, my partner was asked to take some photos of me for a publication in Brazil. As a result, I travelled to Berlin for a few days for the photoshoot. By that time, I already had a good idea (digging in social networks) of who he was and what his interests were. We communicated via video calls leading up to the photoshoot, and it was only after meeting in person that we started officially dating. Fast forward, we’ve been together for over four years now.

Here’s the thing – I do hang out at bars with friends and sometimes end up chatting with new people. But what gets me about social media is the whole background check vibe. It’s not so much about what the person does, but more about feeling safe in a world that can get pretty unpredictable. Being in Germany, where you’ve got folks from all over with different backgrounds and cultures, I feel the need to know a bit about someone’s background therefore I can feel safe. It might sound odd to my parents but being able to peek at someone’s profile online just makes me feel a bit more at ease. Back in Brazil, it was no big deal to meet up with people I already knew from online – it was almost expected, especially at places I hung out at often. Nowadays, I tend to run into someone I know from social media or other circles when I go out, whether it’s to an exhibition, bars or elsewhere. It makes the whole scene feel more familiar.

But I understand where you’re coming from. Like with my partner, for instance. On social media, I didn’t find him particularly captivating. He seemed nice, but I wasn’t all that drawn to him. And I had this notion that he wasn’t actually interested in me either. However, when we met face to face, it was a different story. We share the same star sign, both being Libra, and we found that we approach conversations and interactions in similar ways. In person, we discovered that we were incredibly compatible in many aspects, from our interests and activities to our relationships with our families. Social media only showed me one side of him – the funny guy who cracked jokes – which was quite superficial. But meeting him in person revealed a depth and complexity that I hadn’t anticipated.

The issue is, when I left Brazil, it was also because of a tragic incident involving a friend of mine. She was killed by organised crime in Rio, she ended up entering a wrong area and they pointed a gun to her, she was a victim of a drug war. Her death hit me hard, especially because I kept passing through the same areas where she was last seen, constantly reminded of the loss. It made me realise that I was living in a war zone, where certain areas were off-limits, and gunshots were a common occurrence. The police presence was constant, and I became hyper-aware of the dangers around me. It felt like I could be the next victim if I wasn’t careful with every move I made.
In Brazil, violence is normalised, and people consume it daily through videos and news. I felt like I was constantly at risk of becoming a target, whether by criminals or by police brutality. The political climate, especially with Bolsonaro’s government, added to the tension. I lived in a neighbourhood in São Paolo where me and my Korean friends faced discrimination from my neighbours, who made it clear they didn’t want me there. Queer people were being trolled by Bolsonaro supporters, and the situation was becoming increasingly oppressive and systematically violent. People felt restricted and ashamed to be themselves. That’s when I realised I needed to leave Brazil. It was the right moment to go.
Moving to Germany seemed like a fresh start, but the immigration process was its own challenge. Dealing with bureaucracy where anything is made in a way that is hard for you to understand the law and actually pass the application. Experiencing censorship in Germany, after fleeing Brazil for similar reasons, left me feeling hopeless. I felt like I was trapped in a tight spot, constantly afraid to express myself or share anything because of the censorship and restrictions imposed by institutions here, ever since I returned from Paris. Despite this, my main interest was to establish a larger studio in Berlin and expand my artistic endeavours, as I am already known here. However, I feared losing my residence permit due to ongoing discussions about such matters. After October 7th, some politicians proposed that every artist sign a contract prohibiting criticism of the state, fortunately this did not progress.
Having experienced the repercussions of censorship in Brazil and witnessing its institutionalisation here made me feel desperate. I felt like I might have to leave once again and rebuild my life elsewhere. Nonetheless, I believe that resistance and the voices of immigrant artists and communities have been powerful forces in challenging such oppressive systems.

Black Berliner style.

I’m not much into style, but I do love black. Most of my clothes are black.

I love to dress colourful, but I think in my everyday life, black is my go-to.

Korean BBQ.

Trauma bar.

Berlin LAS Art Foundation.

São Paulo Biennial.

Pass (laughs.)

I love Akira Kurosawa and Hideaki Anno, who is an animator.

And it feels like classic theatre too, a Greek tragedy.

Depends, if the work has sound: silence. If the work doesn’t have sound: music.

Any Faye Wong song.

Paper.

In what sense?

I think authenticity for me is artificial.

Authorship.

Cancellation.

Dream.

The future is conservative.

It’s only in the now.

The contrary or mine?

Void.

Rational.

Love.

Left.

Revolution.

Irreverence.

Underground.

Counterculture.

I believe what has changed for me over the past year is my sense of responsibility. As I began to introduce my art to the world, I transitioned from constantly practicing achieving something new to presenting full bodies of work. With commissions and exhibitions came the realisation that I was now responsible for addressing difficult discussions and managing complex technological projects with larger teams. This heightened my awareness of the impact my actions can have on both my own life and the lives of others.
Moreover, I’ve learned the importance of transparency and assertiveness in my working relationships. As a freelancer, I’ve trained myself to defend my decisions when necessary and to ensure that every project I undertake serves a purpose and aligns with my values. In this age of rapid communication and Internet ubiquity, I’ve come to understand the significance of making thoughtful decisions that will positively impact the future. Consequently, I now carefully consider the projects I accept, focusing on those that hold meaningful purpose and potential for long-term benefit.

Yes, exactly. So, it makes sense for the people I’m working with.

Until the end of November last year, I was a workaholic. I worked from Sunday to Sunday without any breaks. It had been almost two years since I took any vacations. So, I had a tough time managing everything because it all depended on my decisions and perspective, which meant I had to be available always. Then, in December, I had a problem with my left eye. The doctor diagnosed me with a condition called choroiditis, where liquid leaks into the eye due to emotional stress caused by work. Subsequently, the doctor advised me to take a break.

I became aware of my stress and decided to work less, reducing my workload, and aiming for a calmer approach. Since December last year, when I began treatment, I’ve been dealing with a significant opening in my optic nerve too. It’s still undetermined whether it’s related to glaucoma or some other physiological issue. Now, I’m focused on working more efficiently rather than accepting every opportunity, prioritising projects that will positively impact my career.

With M, she attended my show Gabriel Massan & Collaborators: Third World: The Bottom Dimension at the Serpentine in the middle of 2023.

No, I was in Paris at the time. She mentioned that she was riding a bike in Hyde Park when she decided to visit the Serpentine to see what was being exhibited. There, she recorded videos of my pieces with her cell phone. Afterwards, she sent me a message on Instagram expressing her admiration for my work. I thanked her. A few days later, or perhaps the next day (I don’t recall exactly), she told me she was interested in collaborating with me if an opportunity arose. I enthusiastically agreed, and she proposed that I collaborate with her on a piece for her Celebration tour, which is currently ongoing. I accepted, and we had a discussion with her team via a call. Subsequently, she called me on my phone a few days later, around her birthday, while she was in New York. She even greeted me in Portuguese with "bom dia" or something similar.

Yeah, and then she expressed her desire for me to create a new piece for her, specifically for the song Bedtime Stories, which happens to be one of my favourites that I used to listen to frequently. I was both shocked and overjoyed at the same time. So, this initial discussion involved her team. Around mid-September, on the 15th, I travelled to New York to commence work on the piece. I had a team of almost 10 people, though only Carlos Minozzi my technical director, was physically present with me; the rest were connected online. Additionally, Veronica, a producer at Ian Cheng Studio, provided consulting throughout the process. The challenge was to complete the entire piece in just 15 days. It involved a large stage where her live image was cut and manipulated by AI in real-time. Each day, we had presentations to demonstrate the progress and discuss any adjustments needed. Testing was conducted nightly, and I spent the entire day working tirelessly at a studio in Long Island. After the 15-day period, the piece was completed. There were a few additions she wanted, but overall, the collaborative process was enjoyable. She was deeply invested in seeing how I interpreted her and integrated her identity into my creative vision. It was a truly collaborative effort, with constant feedback and dialogue. Of course, it was incredibly challenging and stressful due to the tight timeline.

Well, it was also because it coincided with my birthday; I turned 27 on September 29th while working on the project. It was a deeply emotional experience for me, as well as a significant challenge. Afterwards, I returned to Paris for a brief period before heading back to New York for three days, meeting again for another three days in Manchester, UK, to finalise the adjustments to the piece. I was truly happy when she expressed her satisfaction with the work. It felt like her way of expressing gratitude was by inviting me to join her on stage here in her Berlin concert. This entire experience was life-changing, not just for me but for my family, especially my parents, who introduced me to Madonna’s music, and they are deeply proud of my collaboration with her.

It was a moment of self-realisation for me, and indirectly for my parents as well, an amazing and interesting experience. Especially overseeing such a large team again. Two years ago, I don’t think this would have crossed my mind, but sharing authorship with so many talented technologists was crucial for me. It played a significant role in advancing my studio to where it is today, enabling me to fund other artists’ works and ideas. Overall, it was an extremely positive experience.

I would like to discuss the piece I created for Outernet Arts, called Continuity Flaws: The Loophole. Initially commissioned by the Serpentine Galleries and Outernet Arts, it served as the welcoming piece for players and visitors to the exhibition space. Later, I was invited to showcase it as a solo exhibition at Outernet Arts, featuring 16K screens in London city centre, where it was displayed for around two months. The experience was incredible, as I utilised a software originally designed for building games to craft an interactive film. The film explores themes of time and perspective, displayed across six different screens at the Serpentine and within a cube setup at Outernet, where visitors could be inside the scene.
Samantha Ozer, Mexico City’s TONO Festival curator, attended my show at Serpentine and expressed interest in featuring Continuity Flaws at TONO Festival. I was intrigued by the idea of translating the piece into Spanish, as it resonates with Latin American contexts. To enhance the experience, I reshot the scenes, adding more cameras to focus on individual character’s thoughts and perspectives. Following that, I asked Oscar Ouyang – who designed the outfit I wore for the opening of my show – to create some head pieces to complement the multi-screen installation. I wanted viewers to have an intimate experience, hearing the character’s thoughts while observing them interact. Inspired by this idea, we collaborated to create large helmet-like head stations, enhancing the immersive experience. This collaboration perfectly aligned with Oscar’s practice and added depth to the exhibition. We later showcased these pieces in Mexico, where they received an overwhelmingly positive response. It was incredible to witness how the installation, while not interactive in the traditional sense, provided a multi-dimensional perspective, enriching the auditory and visual experience for the audience.

The conceptual inspiration behind Continuity Flaws stems from the writings of Denise Ferreira da Silva, a philosopher based in the US, discussing the cycle of precariousness experienced by Indigenous and Black Afro-descendants in Brazil. And the process of negative accumulation meaning that everything we acquire is used to compensate for the things we didn’t have access to. We’re constantly working to make up for the things we don’t have access to. My idea was to tackle this critical thinking and translate it into my work. I like diving into academic texts, breaking them down, and interpreting them in my work to bring those powerful concepts and ideas to a mainstream audience. It’s been my thing for years now, and I think I’ve been consistently following this path. This latest piece is my newest experiment in that direction.

Future projects involve a public commission in Geneva, a solo show at Pina Contemporânea. Participation at Sonar and a group show at MAM São Paulo.