Kelly Wearstler Interviews Surrealist Artist Pedro Friedeberg3 days ago7 min read3 comments

Sitting across from the legendary Pedro Friedeberg in his Mexico City studio, a space that feels less like a workplace and more like a physical manifestation of a dream, I was immediately struck by the gentle, almost mischievous energy radiating from the 89-year-old artist. This wasn't just an interview; it was a conversation with a living archive of surrealism, a man who has spent nearly nine decades defiantly coloring outside the lines of convention.The air was thick with the scent of aged paper and oil paint, and every surface was adorned with his creations—intricate drawings that seemed to pulse with a life of their own, and of course, the iconic Hand Chair, a piece that has transcended its status as furniture to become a global symbol of artistic rebellion. Friedeberg, with a twinkle in his eye that belied his years, spoke not in grand artistic manifestos, but in quiet, profound anecdotes, recalling his early clashes with the rigid functionalism of his teachers at the Universidad Iberoamericana, a rebellion that led him directly into the orbit of European surrealists like Leonora Carrington and Remedios Varo who had found a home in Mexico.He described his work not as a conscious effort to be surreal, but as a necessary exorcism of the intricate, often absurd, visions that populate his mind, a universe where Baroque ornamentation, Aztec symbolism, and Escher-like architectural impossibilities coalesce into a singular, kaleidoscopic vision. We discussed the curious journey of the Hand Chair, which he created almost as a whimsical lark in the early 1960s, only to watch it be copied, celebrated, and commodified across the world, becoming both his blessing and his curse, a constant reminder of the fine line between artistic signature and pop culture phenomenon.He mused on the nature of legacy, expressing a quiet bemusement at being labeled Mexico’s first-wave surrealist, a title he wears lightly, more focused on the daily act of creation than on his place in art historical textbooks. For him, the act of drawing remains a meditative, almost spiritual practice, a way to impose order on the beautiful chaos of his imagination, a process he continues with the same fervor he had as a young man.This encounter was a powerful reminder that true artistry isn't about following trends, but about the relentless, personal pursuit of a unique vision, a lesson that resonates far beyond the canvas and into the very way we choose to live our lives. Friedeberg’s world is one where logic is optional and wonder is mandatory, and to step into it, even for an hour, is to be reminded of the transformative power of unbridled creativity.