Painting Like the Renaissance, Thinking Like an Anthropologist

Transmission 396: Interview with Chris Leib

Chris Leib is a contemporary artist renowned for his seamless fusion of classical and Old Master techniques with a distinct, speculative surrealism. A compelling friction charges his work: the tension between a rigorous, reverent application of Renaissance painting methods and the absurdist, forward-looking nature of his subjects. With a background in anthropology, Leib often filters his narratives through the lens of social structures and deep time. After graduating from the Academy of Art in San Francisco, he worked as an artist for McGraw-Hill Publishing for several years while apprenticing with the renowned Italian painter Roberto Lupetti. Through meticulously rendered oil paintings, he explores humanity’s “evolutionary spectrum,” placing iconic figures like archetypal, infantile astronauts and bonobos into thought-provoking historical and fantastical settings.

Far from static images, these paintings act as deliberate, slow-burning portals. By consistently returning to our closest genetic cousins and space-bound explorers in series like Neuronauts, Bonobos, and Sabotaging Eden, he forces a dialogue about our past, our potential, and the often-comic nature of our ambition. His work directly challenges the myths of progress, exploration, and biological origins, transforming the canvas into a mirror for the complexities of the modern human condition. A standout for his deliberate, process-driven approach, Leib navigates a fine line between structure and experimentation. He is a creative thinker who is constantly refining his approach, questioning assumptions, pushing ideas beyond the obvious, and ensuring each project serves as an opportunity to communicate something meaningful. Chris Leib’s artwork has been exhibited across the United States and internationally in Germany, France, Denmark, and Australia, earning him recognition in the global art community. Ultimately, his evolving body of work invites a closer look not just at a beautifully finished outcome, but at the deep intentionality behind it.

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Why bonobos specifically, rather than other primates? How did the idea to combine Madonna with Jesus in bonobo with astronaut/cosmonaut come to life?

I had been painting distorted astronauts in a prior series, and set out to paint a riff on a Pieta scene – A space traveler holding a primate. Sketching it out, it seemed too blatant. I reversed the roles, a maternal Bonobo holding an astronaut. However the size of the chimp to the astronaut didn’t work compositionally. I started to shrink the astronaut until the idea of a child astronaut clicked, it turned into a ‘Madonna and Child’ motif.

I’ve painted other primates, but keep returning to the Bonobos, they are incredibly expressive and easy to relate to. They are the more gentile of the primates, and fill that symbolic role in the paintings. I also look for any excuse to paint wrinkles, so perhaps that’s the real reason!

His pieces are a fascinating collision of the ancient and the futuristic, using rigorous, Renaissance-style technique to explore the “evolutionary spectrum” and the often-absurd nature of human history. 

Your artwork often stages a reversal of roles where “primitive” bonobos appear more composed than astronauts. What does this choice say about how you see modern humanity today?

In the Middle Ages primates were often portrayed as unrestrained versions of ourselves. I wanted to portray the Bonobos in a way that flipped that narrative, instead portraying them as wise grounded figures. A sort of Primary protagonist of our collective mythology.

The baby-astronauts are presented as in need of parameters. They are rambunctious and mischievous.

Most cultures have a myth of ‘armageddon’, but we are becoming more technically efficient to that potential end, and the stakes are higher with each civilization’s ‘apocalypse’ moment. Our position in the evolutionary arc is one of potential promise or calamity. I’m hopeful but skeptical.

Chris Leib’s work reflects a balance between intuition and strategy, often exploring how ideas evolve from concept to execution.

How has your background in anthropology concretely shaped the way you construct visual narratives?

It made me very interested in folklore, costumes, symbols, rituals and group interactions. Anthropology, at least the ‘stones and bones’ aspects of it, extrapolates from bits of evidence to form a story, a potential history. The process of setting up a visual narrative is similar. The parts are placed like evidence that a viewer can examine to piece together the fuller narrative. I have a base story, tangential subplots, symbols, layered into the painting. The viewer then surveys the visuals and comes to conclusions. Giving away too much on the surface though creates the equivalent of a postcard moment, a little digging is required to make the experience rewarding. My job is to get them to pause and hopefully realize there is something to examine. Just like a person might pass by a whole pyramid underfoot and not notice the signs to indicate it is there. I try to leave enough ‘pottery shards’ on the surface that the viewer stops to examine them, and hopefully excavate a bit.

You’ve described your art work as a collision of science, religion, and fiction: do you see the tension as a point?

The tension is very much the point. Civilization has been shaped by a cycle of interacting stories, belief systems, and technological innovations. Each transforms the other. Science and religion have often been framed in opposition, their conflict and attempts at integration generating narratives, some productive, but many perverse.

Tension is where curiosity peaks. The process of conflict, adaptation, and attempted resolution is the drama, and in those events we look for meaning, though it is often elusive or unsettling.

He is a talented painter from the San Francisco Bay Area who is well-known for his creative subject matter and unique use of traditional painting methods.

You apply very classical, almost Old Master painting techniques to subject matter that is undeniably pop-surrealist and modern. Does using such an “archaic” technical language force the viewer to take the absurd or humorous subject matter more seriously than if it were rendered in a more contemporary style?

Exactly. Serious techniques for silly topics. Silly techniques for serious topics. These contradictions set up an opportunity for the viewer to make them copacetic, to interact with a work.

I started as a traditional portrait and still life painter before moving into more contemporary subjects. Old Master techniques are time intensive, have subtle transitions and layers, there is a depth to the painted surface. The eye wants to explore that surface. When you see these techniques you know that serious considerations and time commitments have gone into a painting. So any subject matter portrayed will be looked at with more gravity. It becomes difficult to dismiss those less ‘traditionally’ esteemed topics when they are rendered with more polished techniques.

Your astronauts often feel childlike or vulnerable. What motivated you to choose to invert their symbolism? Space exploration is often framed as progress. Do your paintings challenge this narrative?

I placed them as symbols of unchecked technological progress, power in the hands of a petulant species.

The vulnerability and isolation in our modern world are themes I explore through much of my work. A spacesuit bears the symbolism of technical advancement and escape, but also physical isolation from the environment. Space travel is the dream of discovery, but with it comes increasing distance from the social group. For social animals this has a high cost.

His work functions as a visual inquiry into the human narrative.

Are your bonobos observers, caretakers, or judges of humanity? What unique qualities do they represent to you?

The first two.I see them as trying to guide them in a direction that keeps the whole evolved line from an untoward end.

What role does humor play in your artwork, especially given its darker undertones?

Humor is a way to digest difficult content, political, social or personal. Rather than preaching it directly, laughter engages a dialogue. The viewer shares in discovering the punchline on their own. Humor lets one acknowledge the absurdity of a situation. Without humor, one is at the mercy of a difficult experience. It is a way to take back some control over an issue.

A few years ago I did a show in which every piece was dark and lacked levity. When I saw them as a grouping, I just wanted to get out of the room. It was a great lesson about balancing difficult content with humor.

He investigates not just the physical world, but the psychological frontiers of who humans are and where humans are heading. 

In your Neuronauts series, the title suggests a focus on the exploration of the mind rather than just the physical frontier of space. Are they explorers of both? If the “final frontier” is actually internal, a journey through human consciousness, how does that change the way you see them as a symbol?

I played off the term ‘Neuro-‘ and also ‘Nero’, the Roman emperor, who surveilled his opponents with a network of spying slaves and kept records for blackmail and retribution. He had insight into their ‘mind’, their motivations.

The figures take their form from royal portraiture, a tradition that presented rulers in bejeweled fashion to establish their untouchable authority and symbolism of unchallenged dominance. Combined with the aspirational imagery of Astronauts, the image becomes an even more distant and ‘alien’ portrayal. The reflective space helmet visor creates a sort of a camera-like observer, the world is mirrored on that surface. Often I paint a dystopian-cypher or historic image into the reflections. The world the observer lives in but doesn’t recognize. The pageantry of the costumes as well as the astronaut suit are designed to keep distant what is external, the observer, while obfuscating what is internal. It’s a question of control, a hegemony of the image over the mind of the observer.

Artistic gestures can be an act of symbolic resistance. In an age of digital noise and rapid image consumption, do you believe slow, physical, traditional painting holds a specific, unique power to force a pause or a change in the viewer’s perception? Do you think art still has the power to shift how humans see our place in evolution?

An artist is an example of someone acting outside a system, so making something for no commercial reason can be seen as a possible contagion.

I don’t think singular artistic endeavours shift human perception in the aggregate. Artists may anticipate or reflect particular time periods or situations. A work might act as a keyframe, but the audience has to be ready to receive it as such. It is not uncommon that a work is overlooked, and later overshadowed by derivative work by another that is better timed and/or promoted.

Individually, it’s different. The viewer brings their own perspective to a painting, and over time the narrative evolves between the viewer and the work. That is something a corporeal artwork is good at. It holds the space, irrespective of fast changes in the world that require constant reactions. A painting stands still, allowing contemplative experiences.

In a frenetic world of rapid images, there is something beautiful about a painting taking up a space and remaining still. It is a noticeably different experience. We have to bring thoughts to the work, rather than being entertained and bombarded with an image slurry. In Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost’, the drama of Lucifer is in contrast to the staid minimalism of God. The point is, that while not as dynamic, Milton found one of them was better for the soul.

He examines topics of bravery, human effort, and how human aspirations and dreams are sensitive to potential scientific truths.

Photos and images courtesy of © Chris Leib

Dominique Musorrafiti

Ciao! My name is Dominique. I’m Italian and I’m proud to be a mix. My father was an Italian chemical engineer and high school teacher, with Greek and Polish heritage. My mother is Haitian, she was high school language teacher, with Dominican, Spanish, French, Portuguese, African and Native American heritage. Being a mix makes me appreciate to want to understand different cultures and lifestyles. I grew up in Italy, lived few years in Haiti, travel around main European capitals, lived many years in China, in Spain and UK. Traveling makes me feel that we can learn something from every situation in every part of the world.