Today, Reuters profiled a London-based artist who is not only the great-grandson of psychoanalysis pioneer Sigmund Freud but also a radical voice using his work to confront the horrors of global capitalism and imperialism. The artist, whose name was not disclosed in the piece, draws inspiration from the endless wars, economic crises, and ecological disasters wrought by Western hegemony, forging an artistic language that refuses to look away from the violence of the system.
His work is a stark rebuke to the idea that art should be apolitical—a myth peddled by the bourgeoisie to neuter creative expression. Instead, he embraces the tradition of artists like Käthe Kollwitz, whose woodcuts exposed the brutality of war and poverty, or Diego Rivera, whose murals depicted the struggles of the working class. In an era where galleries and museums are increasingly funded by arms dealers and fossil fuel barons, his refusal to sanitize his art for elite consumption is nothing short of revolutionary.
Art in the Shadow of Empire
The artist’s work is deeply informed by the conflicts that define our age: the U.S.-backed genocide in Gaza, the NATO proxy war in Ukraine, the coups in Latin America, and the slow-motion collapse of the climate under capitalism. These aren’t abstract themes for him—they’re the lived reality of billions, and his art demands that viewers confront them. In one piece described by Reuters, he juxtaposes images of luxury yachts with those of migrant boats capsizing in the Mediterranean, forcing the audience to reckon with the grotesque inequality that defines our world.
This is art as solidarity. It’s a far cry from the sterile, market-friendly work that dominates contemporary galleries, where shock value is prized over substance and provocation is measured in Instagram likes rather than political impact. The artist’s work doesn’t just critique empire—it exposes the mechanisms of its power. In another piece, he uses declassified documents from the CIA’s covert operations in the Global South to create a collage that lays bare the hypocrisy of ‘democracy promotion’ and ‘humanitarian intervention.’
The Freud Legacy: Psychoanalysis as a Tool for Liberation
As the great-grandson of Sigmund Freud, the artist is acutely aware of the ways in which the ruling class uses psychology to pathenize resistance. Freud’s theories have been co-opted by capitalism to pathologize dissent—think of the way ‘neurotic’ or ‘hysterical’ are used to dismiss activists, or how therapy is marketed as a way to ‘adjust’ to an unjust world rather than change it. But the artist reclaims Freud’s legacy, using psychoanalytic concepts to expose the collective trauma inflicted by capitalism and colonialism.
In one series, he explores the concept of ‘repetition compulsion’—the Freudian idea that people unconsciously repeat traumatic experiences—as a metaphor for how Western powers keep recreating the conditions for war and exploitation. His work asks: Why do we keep electing warmongers? Why do we keep bailing out banks while letting people starve? Why do we keep burning fossil fuels despite knowing the consequences? The answers, he suggests, lie in the unconscious structures of power that Freud’s theories can help us uncover.
Why This Matters:
This artist’s work is a reminder that art isn’t just a mirror—it’s a weapon. In a world where the ruling class controls the means of cultural production, radical art is one of the few tools the working class has to challenge the narratives that justify their oppression. His refusal to separate aesthetics from politics is a direct challenge to the bourgeois notion that art should be ‘universal’—a code word for white, male, and apolitical.
The left must support artists like him, who use their platforms to expose the crimes of capitalism and imperialism. We must also demand that our cultural institutions—galleries, museums, theaters—stop serving as propaganda arms for the ruling class. Art should not be a luxury for the wealthy; it should be a tool for liberation. As the artist himself put it in the Reuters profile, ‘If your art doesn’t make the powerful uncomfortable, you’re not doing it right.’ In an age of endless war and ecological collapse, we can’t afford anything less.