Haig Aivazian Interview | BOMB Magazine

Haig Aivazian’s work occupies a distinctive space at the intersection of experimental film, animation and conceptual art, where the act of making becomes a form of thinking through material, time, and perception. In a recent profile by Jared Quinton for BOMB Magazine, Aivazian discusses how his practice resists categorization, blending hand-drawn techniques with digital processes to explore how meaning emerges not just from what is shown, but from how It’s constructed. His films and installations often unfold slowly, inviting viewers to linger in the space between image and idea, where cartoons, found footage, and original drawings coexist as equal participants in a visual language that is both playful and rigorously interrogative.

Aivazian’s approach to animation is not about illusion or narrative cohesion in the traditional sense, but about exposing the labor and decision-making embedded in every frame. He describes his process as one of “thinking through making,” where each mark, cut, or layer becomes a site of inquiry. This methodology allows him to explore themes of history, displacement, and cultural memory without resorting to didactic storytelling. Instead, his work suggests connections through juxtaposition, rhythm, and texture—qualities that align more closely with poetic essay than conventional cinema.

One of the recurring motifs in Aivazian’s films is the use of cartoon aesthetics, not as nostalgia or parody, but as a way to access a universal visual shorthand that can be both disarming and loaded with historical resonance. By borrowing from the language of mid-century animation—its limited motion, symbolic shorthand, and episodic structure—he creates a tension between accessibility, and opacity. The cartoons are never merely quoted; they are altered, fragmented, or recontextualized, turning familiar forms into vehicles for uncanny reflection. This strategy allows him to engage with complex sociopolitical themes while maintaining a sense of openness and interpretive space.

His 2021 film Two Cigarettes in the Dark exemplifies this approach, combining archival footage, hand-drawn elements, and voiceover to trace the legacies of oil, labor, and migration across generations. The film does not explain its references linearly; instead, it builds meaning through accumulation and association, letting the viewer piece together connections between personal memory and geopolitical forces. Aivazian emphasizes that he is not interested in delivering a message, but in creating conditions where thought can emerge through sustained engagement with the work.

Quinton’s profile highlights how Aivazian resists the pressure to conform to either the art world’s expectations of conceptual rigor or the film festival circuit’s demand for narrative clarity. Instead, he operates in a third space—one where the boundaries between drawing, film, and installation are fluid, and where the process of creation is as important as the final output. This ethos extends to his teaching and collaborative projects, where he encourages students and peers to embrace uncertainty and experimentation as productive states rather than obstacles to resolution.

In an era dominated by algorithmic content and high-volume production, Aivazian’s commitment to slow, hand-driven processes offers a counterpoint—not as a rejection of technology, but as a reimagining of how tools can serve inquiry rather than efficiency. His work suggests that animation, at its most potent, is not just a medium for telling stories, but a way of thinking in time: a practice where every frame is a decision, every cut a question, and every viewing an invitation to think alongside the maker.

As conversations about the future of animation expand beyond commercial entertainment into realms of artistic research and critical practice, figures like Haig Aivazian remind us of the medium’s capacity for depth, ambiguity, and intellectual rigor. His films do not seek to entertain in the conventional sense, but to provoke reflection—proving that even the most seemingly lighthearted forms, like cartoons, can carry profound weight when approached with intention and care.

I’m not trying to make something that explains itself. I’m trying to make something that invites you to think with it.

Haig Aivazian, in conversation with Jared Quinton, BOMB Magazine