10 Questions with Robin Steven Moné

Robin Steven Moné is a multidisciplinary artist whose work emerges from rupture, silence, and resistance. His practice confronts psychological fragmentation and societal decay through sculpture, installation, and conceptual painting.

He did not study art to conform. A formative year at the Leipzig School of Design broadened his technical scope, but his artistic path was forged elsewhere: in the solitude of self-study, in the fire of a traditional blacksmith apprenticeship in Thuringia, and in deep resistance to superficial aesthetics. His visual language is crafted from raw materials and deeper existential inquiry.

Moné’s current series, “Infinity RELICS,” consists of 200 unique mixed-media capsules that materialize human contradictions through form, texture, and symbolic compression.
His work has been exhibited at Café Moné (2024) and Antiquitäten Hahn (2023) and is featured online through platforms such as ArtConnect and his website.

robinstevenmone.art | @robinstevenmone

ARTIST STATEMENT

Robin Steven Moné is a multidisciplinary artist whose work confronts the psychological wounds and existential fractures of modern humanity.

Working with sculpture, installation, and painting, Moné creates symbolically charged objects and environments that reflect on memory, violence, transformation, and corrupted ideals. His practice blurs the line between artefact and accusation - each piece a fragment of deeper unrest.

Rather than offering consolation or clarity, his works expose the raw undercurrents beneath appearances. They are confrontations, echo chambers of suppressed meaning, executed with brutal precision and poetic depth. Moné does not decorate. He excavates. His artistic vision is not about beauty - it is about necessity.

Everything has its price, acrylic, sculpting compound, epoxy resin on wood, 58x42 cm, 2024 © Robin Steven Moné

INTERVIEW

What first led you to express yourself through art?

I never wanted to merely decorate the silence. I wanted to interrupt it. From the very beginning, my need to create came from a refusal to look away - from the fractures in our society, the wounds we all carry, and the truths we fear to name. I don't create art to be a hint or a suggestion. I create to be a blow to the stomach. In a world addicted to distraction and numb to introspection, I choose confrontation. My work is an invitation to look closer - brutally closer. I want to tear through the veils of comfort and force the viewer to stand still, to feel, to reflect. It's not about offering answers. It's about opening the space for the questions we often run from. And if someone walks away disturbed or awakened - or simply unable to forget what they've seen - then the work has fulfilled its task. Art, for me, is not a whisper. It is the most honest form of violence I know - directed not against the body, but against denial.

How did your time as a blacksmith apprentice influence your artistic approach?

While I no longer work as a blacksmith, that time shaped something essential in me: a reverence for craftsmanship. The forge taught me to see the soul in material - in metal, in texture, in form. What others might dismiss as cold or industrial, I began to perceive as expressive, even spiritual. That experience didn't just sharpen my hands - it sharpened my eyes. It's what led me to explore sculpture, mixed media, and the physicality of creation. I don't think only about colour or surface anymore - I think about weight, tension, and form. Working around ecclesiastical commissions and historical restoration introduced me to centuries of artistic language. It forced me to learn how beauty can endure - quietly or defiantly - and how it can speak across time. Today, that influence still echoes through my work, not as literal iron or hammer, but as a mindset: precise, deliberate, and rooted in respect for the enduring power of form.

Undefined 425, acrylic and copper paint on wood, 50 x 34cm, 2025 © Robin Steven Moné

You describe your work as emerging from rupture and resistance. Can you share a moment when this became clear in your journey?

There was never a single rupture – there were many. My work was not born from a moment but from a climate: a succession of silent collapses, of internal confrontations, of waking up in rooms that were either too full or unbearably empty. I've lived through professions that hardened the body and stripped the mind. I've endured the dissonance of people, of promises made and broken, of warmth turned cold. And perhaps more importantly, I've spent years in isolation – not by choice, but by circumstance. No distractions. No noise. Just the merciless mirror of silence. Those years, though they came early in my life, shaped everything. It was there that resistance became not just an emotional reaction but a form. A structure. Something I could mould. My art carries these contradictions – the grief and the clarity, the weight and the fire.Every piece is a residue of those unseen wars and a testament to the stubborn will to shape meaning from what tried to erase it.

What does your creative process usually look like - from idea to execution?

My process rarely begins with sketches. I don't need them. I build everything mentally - every layer, every tension, every curve. I live with the idea in my head for weeks, sometimes months, letting it evolve and take form in silence. Once it's clear, I start without hesitation. There is a precise vision already embedded in me. My background in craftsmanship taught me how to construct, refine, and finish a work not just artistically but physically - how to stabilize it, seal it, andpreserve it. I know what it needs structurally before I touch the first material. I often begin multiple pieces in parallel. It's not chaos - it's permission. I don't want creativity to suffocate under the pressure of completion. Each day, I return to the work that resonates with my current inner state. This fluidity keeps my process honest.

How do you decide when a work is finished, especially with such emotionally charged content?

The end is never loud. It doesn't come with applause. When I finish shaping a piece, I live with it. I place it where I can't ignore it - and I let it confront me. For days, sometimes weeks, it speaks to me, challenges me, and reflects parts of myself I hadn't noticed before. Emotionally charged work doesn't allow easy closure. It asks for honesty. And that's the measure: if I can stand in front of it without wanting to correct or protect anything - if it no longer unsettles me because it has become whole - then it is done. Finishing is not a technical act. It's emotional detachment. It's the moment I no longer feel responsible for it.

Can you walk us through the concept behind your current series, Infinity RELICS?

The Infinity RELICS represent the core of my artistic identity - perhaps even the most ambitious project I've undertaken so far. Each piece in this collection is both an artefact and an accusation, a mirror and a monument. These are not simply art objects; they are relics of the human condition, each one sealed and inscribed with its own abyss. Every Infinity RELIC is handcrafted with intense dedication. On the inside and outside, using materials such as mirrored acrylic, modelling compound, fabric, epoxy resin, pigment and so on. Each relic reflects one specific human failing or existential theme, chosen to embody a personal or societal darkness. Due to the mirror systems embedded at both the top and bottom, every interior is infinitely reflected - an abyss turned in on itself. However, the core experience is not immediately accessible. From the outside, the viewer sees only the theme and the exterior design. The inner world remains hidden, locked behind reflective surfaces until activated. Only the collector, once they connect the included LED system, becomes the first to witness what lies within. This moment of private revelation is central to the entire work. It speaks to the secrecy and singularity of introspection - how the deepest truths are often only visible when we choose to face them. Limited to just 200 pieces, the RELICS are both a collectable series and a commentary on rarity, memory, and value. Each RELIC comes with a certificate of authenticity and its own distinct packaging - crafted from aged wood, fabric, or salvaged materials. It's like a forgotten heirloom unearthed from a past we'd rather not confront. What drives this project is not just aesthetic or conceptual ambition but a profound need to freeze moments of collapse, shame, and confrontation - and then offer them back to the world, sealed but echoing. These objects are containers of the uncomfortable, made to be held, collected, and eventually faced.

What role does materiality play in how you communicate with the viewer?

Materiality is not a vehicle for expression in my work. It is the expression. Every surface, texture, weight, and reflection carries intention. The rawness of a material - be it corroded metal, cast resin, crumbling wood, or mirrored acrylic is never arbitrary. I work with materials that have memory, that decay, that resist polish. Because I do not seek perfection. I seek confrontation. My practice is deeply physical. I shape objects by hand, often with techniques rooted in craftsmanship and industrial labour.
This tactile approach creates a tension between the emotional and the constructed, the intimate and the mechanical. It is through material that I ask the viewer to feel before they think - to confront the surface and then question what lies beneath it. In the case of the Infinity RELICS, the very core of the concept is built on mirrored materiality. It is an infinite reflection of the human abyss. In this way, materiality becomes a silent dialogue - brutal, honest, and uncompromising.

Do you view your pieces more as personal expressions or as societal commentary, or both?

My work emerges from personal fracture, but it refuses to remain private. The themes I explore - failure, distortion, violence, silence, excess - are not mine alone. They are symptoms of a human being. Each piece may originate in an internal rupture, but its aim is to resonate far beyond. I am not interested in creating confessions. I am interested in creating inner reflection. There is no clear line between the self and society in my process. I see the individual as a microcosm of collective dysfunction. What we repress in ourselves, we tolerate in our systems. My work is a method of excavation. Digging through the personal in order to expose the political, the psychological, andthe structural. So yes, every piece is personal. Always as a gateway into something larger, something we are usually too distracted, too afraid, or too civilized to confront directly.

You've described your work as confronting rather than consoling. What kind of reaction or reflection do you hope to provoke?

I do not seek to soothe. I seek to disturb. Not only for provocation's sake but also because I believe real transformation begins where comfort ends. We live in a time of filters, distractions, and curated personas. My work attempts to rupture that surface - to create moments that stop the viewer and make looking feel like being looked at. I want my pieces to raise questions people spend years avoiding: Who am I behind the mask? What have I silenced to function? Where do my shadows live, and who suffers from them? The reaction I aim for is not immediate applause but a lingering discomfort - the kind that follows you home. My ideal viewer is not the one who "likes" the work instantly but the one who returns to it days later, unsettled and altered. If even one person dares to look inward instead of away, then the piece has done its work.

Eve, plaster, epoxy resin, acrylic, copper paint, patina, 220 x 45 x 67cm, 2024 © Robin Steven Moné

Lastly, what's next for you? Do you have any new projects or series you are currently working on?

The Infinity RELICS are far from complete. It is a long journey - one I walk with full intention and relentless precision. Alongside this, I continue to paint. My paintings are my roots. They are the place I return to when silence is needed, when hands must speak what words cannot. But there is something else. A new project is unfolding in the background. What I can say is this: it's a sculpture over three meters tall. A monumental presence. A figure born from both reverence and unease - part relic, part apparition. It will demand space, physically and psychologically. It will not ask to be remembered. It will insist on it. This will likely be one of the most personal and complex undertakings of my life. A work that weighs heavy, not just in mass, but in meaning. It will disturb and illuminate. It will judge and shelter. It will be a vision you cannot easily unsee. This is just the beginning.

Artist’s Talk

Al-Tiba9 Interviews is a promotional platform for artists to articulate their vision and engage them with our diverse readership through a published art dialogue. The artists are interviewed by Mohamed Benhadj, the founder & curator of Al-Tiba9, to highlight their artistic careers and introduce them to the international contemporary art scene across our vast network of museums, galleries, art professionals, art dealers, collectors, and art lovers across the globe.

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