Biography of Christoph Alesi

I was born in a market town in the foothills of Lower Austria and raised by my grandmother, a woman who cared for ten of her own children, one foster child, and three grandchildren. My grandfather rarely came home, mainly to do his laundry. Although my mother lived nearby, she worked for my grandmother during the day, painting souvenir pictures for a local business. My uncle, who also lived with my grandmother, created tattoo designs. Surrounded by creative influences, I began drawing constantly—on scraps of paper, walls, furniture, and anything I could find—often to the dismay of those around me.

In elementary school, I initially struggled with my drawing teacher, who gave me poor grades because my artwork was “too realistic” for my age. Nevertheless, I persisted and even earned my first income during those years by drawing nude sketches for older students. Around the age of 13, I began experimenting with drugs, particularly LSD, which opened my eyes to the world of art. The music of Arik Brauer led me to the Viennese School of Fantastic Realism and its prominent artists, including Arik Brauer, Ernst Fuchs, Rudolf Hausner, Wolfgang Hutter, and Anton Lehmden. They inspired me to infuse my art with emotional depth and meaning.

At 19, I attended the University of Applied Arts in Vienna but soon left, disillusioned by the attitudes of many students who viewed art as a means to deceive viewers and buyers. In protest, I destroyed nearly all my earlier works by throwing them off a bridge and vowed never to be an artist again. Despite this, I remained deeply influenced by artists like Hieronymus Bosch and Salvador Dalí. Dalí’s works, often inspired by LSD experiences, fascinated me, as I could relate to his “LSD vision”—the ability to see hidden images within everyday structures. This perspective has stayed with me to this day, without the need for LSD.

At 38, I met a young woman who profoundly changed my life. She gave me stability and helped me build a structured life. Out of gratitude, I decided to help others and became a special needs educator, a profession I practiced passionately for over 25 years. After our amicable separation, I had a few brief relationships, but only one—with a teacher and special educator—left me with positive memories. Later, I endured a two-year toxic relationship with a narcissist, which left me with trauma that continues to affect me. This trauma is also reflected in my Trauma Art series.

A pivotal moment in my life occurred aboard the Salon Ship Fräulein Florentine. Contemplating jumping into the river’s current, I heard a young voice singing and playing the ukulele. It was Mary Mayrhofer, an emerging artist who would later win the Golden Nica. Her music and presence captivated me, and I asked if I could sit with her. Mary shared her struggles with depression and how she had processed them through art. Her openness and ability to channel her emotions into creativity deeply inspired me. She encouraged me to use art as a means to process my trauma. Without her, I might never have returned to creating art.

I began drawing almost nonstop—sometimes for 20 hours a day, often going without sleep for days. This intense period led to my first series, Trauma Art, consisting of about 15 works. However, working on these images continually brought me back to my trauma, so I began a new series, The Time After, which also includes around 15 works.

Through his project Magic Resurrection, Christoph invites viewers to experience human emotions in profound new ways and to discover art as a medium for self-reflection and confrontation.

I have retained my unique style and “LSD vision” to this day. However, I have modernized my technique, working digitally to allow myself to draw anytime and anywhere. Despite this, every line is drawn by my hand, entirely free from AI. My creative process is one of constant metamorphosis: Objects never remain what they seem. Shapes and identities shift and merge, creating a visual dynamism that draws the viewer into a world of surreal illusions and psychological depth.

Today, I know that my work deserves to be seen, and I am fully committed to making that happen

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