At the Sainsbury Centre, Norwich, painting bears witness to trauma, displacement and the slow work of healing.
Tesfaye Urgessa, The Fragile Mind, 2025. Oil and lacquer on canvas. Copyright of the artist.
Tesfaye Urgessa’s Roots of Resilience is not only an exhibition, it is a reckoning. In his newest canvases, shown at the Sainsbury Centre as part of Can We Stop Killing Each Other?, Urgessa stages conflict, displacement, and identity into visual form: figures scarred, bodies caught between figuration and abstraction, but never stripped of their integrity. Tesfaye Geleta Urgessa (Amharic: ተስፋዬ ገለታ ኡርጌሳ), Ethiopian-born and based in Germany since 2009, represented Ethiopia at the 60th Venice Biennale. Drawing from his diasporic history, Ethiopian visual traditions, and the echoing influences of artists such as Bacon and Freud, he does more than reflect; he reframes how we see suffering and survival. While war and displacement are often represented in singular narratives of loss, Urgessa refuses the reductive. His work insists on the fragile dignity of those who survive, that scars carry testimony, that trauma lodges in flesh, but that it also bears possibility. This interview explores how Urgessa moves between image and emotion, memory and material, asking not just how we witness but how we might begin to heal.
ART AFRICA: Your new series engages deeply with the themes of conflict, displacement and the refugee crisis. How did your own diasporic experience shape the way you approached ‘Roots of Resilience’?
Tesfaye Urgessa: I’m not sure if it is my diasporic experience that shaped the way I approach the themes of roots and resilience. Conflict, displacement, and not only the refugee crisis but also the economic crisis are realities one cannot simply ignore, as they are stark and affect everything around us. I believe that, whether or not someone has a diasporic background, these issues are so present today that they inevitably leave a strong impression, whether we choose to acknowledge them or not. Perhaps being part of the diaspora allows someone like me to engage in conversations and connections with others who share similar experiences. Of course, the intensity and nature of those experiences can differ significantly.
Tesfaye Urgessa, Mother and Child, 2025, created for ‘Roots of Resilience’. © Tesfaye Urgessa. Photo: Kate Wolstenholme
In this exhibition, the human body is depicted as scarred but never defeated. Can you share more about how you use the figure to explore resilience, dignity and the capacity to heal?
People often expect an artwork to convey a single emotion, such as happiness or joy. My intention, instead, is to allow the figures I paint to embody a spectrum of emotions and characteristics simultaneously. I want them to be fragile, yet strong enough to reveal their fragility. I want viewers to sense that these figures may have endured hardship, but they have also made it through—the scars they carry become significant symbols of having overcome particular struggles. To me, surviving such challenges is resilience. Presenting oneself with all weaknesses and all the weight of past experiences openly, responsibly, and with confidence is an act of dignity. And the fact of having come through it all demonstrates the profound human capacity to heal.
During your residency at the Sainsbury Centre, you engaged with works by Picasso, Henry Moore and Baule sculpture. How did these encounters with the collection influence the development of this series?
During my residency at the Sainsbury Centre, I had no intention of producing any artwork. My initial interest was to engage with the collection. But at some point, I felt a spontaneous impulse to create, an urge to respond to specific works I had encountered, such as pieces by Picasso, Henry Moore, and a sculpture from Nigeria. That’s how I usually work: when something strikes me and I feel compelled to reflect on it, I act immediately. I don’t overthink; I begin and allow the process to unfold, curious to see where it leads. When it comes to my later works, however, I find it difficult to point to specific influences. For me, influence operates beneath the conscious surface. It’s subtle, almost hidden, shaping the practice in ways I can’t always identify. I know it is there, yet it remains obscured in the background of my process rather than something I can clearly name or trace.
Female figure with child, 1900c – 1999c. Materials: Pigment, Wood. Measurements: h. 457 x w. 142 x d. 148mm. Courtesy of the Robert and Lisa Sainsbury. Provenance: Purchased by Robert and Lisa Sainsbury from Adrian Farquhar in 1974. Accessioned into the Sainsbury Centre, University of East Anglia circa 1989.
Your practice moves between figuration and abstraction, drawing on influences from Lucian Freud and Francis Bacon while rooted in Ethiopian visual traditions. How do you navigate these different artistic lineages in your work?
Most of the influences I receive from different artists or places reveal themselves only in retrospect. I don’t set out with the intention to be influenced by a particular style or tradition. It’s more than just being drawn to specific works or practices; I study them, and over time, aspects of them naturally find their way into my own work. For example, I never deliberately sought to be influenced by Ethiopian iconography. It was simply something I engaged with when I was very young, and it has stayed with me throughout my career. Similarly, with artists like Picasso or Lucian Freud, what captivated me was not a desire to imitate but an admiration for the intensity and depth of their practice. Freud, for instance, pays an extraordinary amount of attention to his work, unlike many artists I know, and that dedication made me want to learn more about him. In doing so, inevitably, certain elements seeped into my own creative process. I see painting as an extension of the self. As human beings, whenever we learn, discover, or practice something, it inevitably shapes the way we express ourselves. For painters, this influence emerges in painting; for musicians, in music. It doesn’t usually work the other way around. You don’t go searching for someone to be influenced by. Instead, you are drawn to a particular work, person, or action, and through that engagement, you absorb and borrow elements that eventually become part of your own expression.
The exhibition is part of Can We Stop Killing Each Other?, a season that confronts violence and asks whether art can foster empathy and repair. What role do you believe painting can play in such urgent social conversations?
Painting or any artwork, for that matter, cannot change the world directly or immediately. But it can create an experience, and experience is what we lack when we deal only with information. Most of us already know enough to live a fair life with others; what we miss is the capacity to feel the position of another person. A painting can offer a space where viewers are not only informed but implicated, where they feel the gaze of others upon them, where they sense fragility and resilience at once. This doesn’t repair injustice, but it can open empathy, and empathy is the ground from which repair might begin. An artwork can offer comfort to those who are distressed, in pain, or in sorrow. At the same time, a painting can also confront those who cause harm, making them aware of their actions, or inspire others to rise and fight for their rights. Painting has the potential to act as a catalyst for change. It can awaken, provoke, and even initiate action.
Tesfaye Urgessa, No country for young men, 31, 2024. Oil on canvas. © Tesfaye Urgessa. Courtesy of Cheng-Lan Foundation and Saatchi Yates
You have spoken about wanting to paint “the human figure in its totality, scars and resilience, fear and strength.” How do you hope audiences will carry this vision with them after experiencing ‘Roots of Resilience’?
When I paint my figures, I aim to place them in a space where the viewer can imagine themselves being. That is my main intention. Through this, I hope people can gain a deeper understanding of what others are going through. At the heart of many conflicts lies a lack of empathy, a failure to imagine oneself in the position of others. Without that capacity, people can inflict enormous pain. Information is more abundant than ever, far beyond what we actually need. People generally know what is right and what is wrong. The real gap is not in knowledge, but in experience. Most have never truly placed themselves in the situation of those who endure suffering. If expertise is shared effectively, then what once felt distant becomes personal, and empathy naturally grows. Painting’s primary purpose is to share experiences.
‘Roots of Resilience: Tesfaye Urgessa’ runs from 20 September 2025 to 15 February 2026 at the Sainsbury Centre, Norwich.
