Description
Sarah-Jane Szikora (English, 1971 -)
In Prisoner of War, Sarah-Jane Szikora brings her unmistakable brand of surreal, tongue-in-cheek storytelling to the cosmic stage. This is not your standard tale of good versus evil. Instead, Szikora delivers a scene that’s part divine comedy, part philosophical riddle—where angels are mischievous, the devil is more pitiful than menacing, and the heavens themselves seem in on the joke.
The painting features a devil—not fiery and fearsome, but chained to a cloud like a child in time-out. He’s surrounded by a gang of cherubic angels, not wielding harps or hymns, but tossing their halos like hoops onto his pointed tail. The image is absurd, delightful, and sneakily clever. The longer you look, the more you realize that beneath the whimsy, there’s a sharp commentary on power, play, and redemption.
Szikora’s style softens everything with pastel tones and round, almost toy-like forms. The devil isn’t terrifying—he’s tragicomic. His slumped posture and resigned expression suggest he’s long given up trying to fight back. The angels, meanwhile, are less saintly than smug, their playful game teetering on the edge of cruelty. It’s this tension—between light and dark, innocence and irony—that makes the piece so compelling.
The humor here is layered. On the surface, it’s visual comedy—halos as hula hoops, a devil who’s more Eeyore than evil. But look closer and there’s a deeper wit at work. Prisoner of War pokes at the simplicity of moral binaries. Who really has the upper hand here? The devil may be bound, but the angels are the ones enjoying the game. It’s a tableau that suggests that virtue, too, can become performative—or even petty.
As with much of Szikora’s work, laughter is just the entry point. Underneath the giggles lies something richer: an invitation to question our assumptions about good and evil, punishment and grace, and the strange games we all play with power.
Prisoner of War is a masterclass in visual storytelling—funny, unsettling, and oddly touching. Szikora turns a celestial standoff into something deeply human, reminding us that sometimes the line between heaven and hell is as thin—and as silly—as a golden ring in midair.
