“Nobody’s perfect,” says Arthur Lazaryan. “Even humans: They’re not perfect. Because we’re not robots. If you’re a robot — then, yeah, you’re perfect because you’re taught to do certain things.”
Since 2023, Lazaryan has owned and operated ArtLazar Gallery in Walled Lake, which, like a latter-day cabinet of curiosities, is crammed full of paintings in watercolor, oil, and acrylic; etchings; sculptures; objets d’art; and other wonders.
Lazaryan, who grew up in Yerevan, Armenia, the youngest of four siblings, displays his own art in the gallery, as well as work by his brother, Tadevos, and their father, Aram, who has since passed away.
“I’m an artist; I’m a gallery owner; I’m a curator,” Lazaryan says. “It’s a lot of responsibilities all together.”
Because the gallery is open only for private showings, Lazaryan spends his days not only creating art but also rhapsodizing on the subjects dearest to his heart, from robots (which we’ll return to) to aliens (“we all come from different planets”) to the nature of beauty and the history of art.
Lazaryan, who has lived in the United States for almost 30 years now, has enjoyed a wide and varied career, including stints in U.S. diplomatic security services — serving as chief of security personnel — and a role managing access to surgical equipment for health care providers.
“I’ve been all over,” he says.
Growing up, Lazaryan says, his family was “heavily involved” in artistic pursuits of all sorts. His father was a builder; his mother was an architect who oversaw the preservation of historic buildings and churches. His parents fostered an appreciation for the fine arts in each of their children, Lazaryan says.
Still, though Lazaryan attended a few studio classes in his childhood and says his oldest brother, Artyom (a fine arts professor “who got me through childhood”), had a deep and lasting impact on his life and outlook, Lazaryan himself has had no formal arts training.
When you look around his gallery, you’ll notice a wide variety of artistic styles, with references not only to traditional Armenian art but also to abstract expressionism, impressionism, and even something that borders on psychedelic.
“I’ll tell you what,” Lazaryan says. “A lot of artists stick with one style — but who says you cannot have more than one? It’s all about the possibility. Can you do it? Or [is this] the only platform and the only vision you have?”
Near the front door is a massive chair carved from oak. At first glance, it looks not unlike the natural world’s version of the iconic throne from Game of Thrones, with wooden scepters replacing the swords of the Targaryens’ defeated enemies.
But Lazaryan says there’s no connection between his work and either George R. R. Martin’s book or the TV show: “No connection whatsoever,” he insists.
In the back of the gallery, a pair of robot sculptures — serene, somehow bemused — stand poised. They’re made of clamps, ionized aluminum, and the same surgical instruments Lazaryan once managed in his professional life.
“Nobody has anything like this,” he warns me. “Nothing like this exists.”
Several collectors have inquired about the pieces, but Lazaryan insists they aren’t for sale.
“I’m not ready,” he says.
Lazaryan hates the idea that the sculptures might wind up in a safe or a storage vault, mute and alone. His dream is to see them stand in the Detroit Institute of Arts, where they’d be seen by crowds of people every day.
“This is like a guardian angel,” Lazaryan says, indicating one with his eyebrows. “Right?”
This story originally appeared in the February 2026 issue of Hour Detroit magazine. To read more, pick up a copy of Hour Detroit at a local retail outlet. Click here to get our digital edition.
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