Evans Mbugua. Courtesy of the artist.

ARTE & PALABRA. CONVERSATIONS WITH CARLOS DEL AMOR

There is a work by Evans Mbugua (Kenya, 1979) titled Live life as a celebration that could serve to define the work of this African-born artist who, before he was twenty, moved to France, integrating what he was, what he lived, what he is and what he lives in his art. In this work in which he appeals to the celebration of life, we see a boy playing or dancing - it doesn't matter if it is one thing or the other because playing and dancing is celebrating - and happy, and this is intuited in the rest of the works, happiness is vindicated through small and inconsequential big things. A chat, a ball, a place.

Evans' work is made up of bits and pieces of what he has been living and collecting, throwing into an imaginary suitcase from which, at a specific moment, he extracts the concrete experience of a lived experience to transfer it to the canvas. We are what we are because we come from where we come from and we are what we are because on the way we transform ourselves in an imperceptible but constant way. For this reason, and continuing with the play on words, in order to define what we will be, we must keep in mind what we were and at the same time not be afraid to build ourselves a little every day with the reality that surrounds us and molds us. Roots, origins, happiness, everyday life, essential ingredients in the vital adventure we undertake every morning.

We are all Spinning around the Same Sun 1. Oil and acrylic on methacrylate. 2022.

If you had to define your art in one sentence, what would it be?

My work is a contemplation on humanity from the perspective of a Kenyan living in France.

Every artist is what he is because of where he comes from, because of his origins and roots. Could your art be understood without your roots?

My work could be understood without necessarily my roots, because our lives are made up of lived experiences. And I pick out memories which are important to me, and I translate them into artwork. So my roots give me a certain perspective. But I am interested in topics, in ideas, in concepts around the world in which we all live in. So anyone can be able to identify with a childhood gimmick, with a couple dancing, or with a friend taking a selfie.

What is the clash between Kenya and France, and how do they coexist in your work?

There are many differences between Kenya and France, and the most obvious one being the language. I'm an anglophone living in a francophone country. So what I'm interested in is the influence that these differences have on the person that I am and the person that I'm becoming. As time goes by, I believe that our DNA, our human DNA, is embedded with cultures and traditions and histories which have been passed on through generations. And so we are never just one thing. So I'm interested in the contemporary hybrid identity that we become, especially today, accelerated by the Internet, social media, etc, etc.

We are all Spinning around the Same Sun 3. Oil and acrylic on methacrylate. 2022.

It's curious how everyday, the acts that are part of the routine like a boy playing football or a conversation can be a gesture as exciting as any other and be elevated to the category of art. What importance do you give to the little things?

I'm interested in the everyday, mundane, lived experiences, because these memories construct who we are. Art plays an important role in informing us of human feelings. But I think that art can also be a tool to help us heal, to help us learn how to love. It can be a tool to restore and affirm our humanity. And I think that's what I would want, to use my art to participate in our life, in what we are becoming today. Well, at least I hope that art can be useful to healing.

Is happiness an important ingredient for creation?

Yes. I think I always want to be happy with what I'm creating. In any case, we all want to be happy, and we have a right to find happiness. The Dalai Lama says something like that, and I totally agree.

We are all Spinning around the Same Sun 2. Oil and acrylic on methacrylate. 2022.

How much of your work is "emotional archaeology"?

It's a new term for me, although probably most of my work adheres to this idea of emotional archaeology, because emotions are the heart of my work.

You have to live to create, should art be a lived art?

For me, every form of art is a living expression. And so for art to exist, it has to be experienced by living beings. So I think one exists because of the other. Art cannot exist without being experienced.

We are all Spinning around the Same Sun 4. Oil and acrylic on methacrylate. 2022.

Where do you think your art is going?

My art has evolved a lot recently. The works I will be presenting at Art Madrid 2024 are part of the conclusion of a series about childhood that I started around 2017 called Back to the Future.

From there, I'm going to continue a series that I started recently, in a gradual way, where I'm exploring adolescence or young adulthood. Through a character who is on the African continent, probably in Kenya, and who I would like to place in a period between the sixties and seventies, to also help me dig into my own family history. It is a project that I am very excited about at this stage of my creation.

On the other hand, I want to move from the flat surfaces like paper or methacrylate that I have been using to other more sculptural supports. I have begun to experiment with soft sculpture and textiles, as well as ceramics and bronze.

I think it will be a very exciting future in which I will embark on new projects whose forms of representation occupy a different space than what I have done before, so I am very excited.

Thank you Carlos!

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Paula Blanco

CONVERSATIONS WITH MARISOL SALANOVA. INTERVIEW PROGRAM. ART MADRID'25

Paula Blanco (Oviedo, 1996) explores the forms of nature, connecting them with science, territory, and the environment through artistic creation. The mountains, the sun, leaves, and trees serve as inspiration to create structures with clay, pigments, varnishes, and fiberglass, resembling fragments of organic creatures.

Each piece is not a finished work in itself but part of an evolving continuum, as she constantly experiments. Her sensitivity is skillfully channeled into her creations, which seem to pivot on the use of alternative techniques to traditional painting. She seeks to sublimate matter, separating the idea from the object. Her approach to abstraction is ethereal, expressing itself through landscapes and the places where raw materials originate.

The only blue organism. 2024. Mixed media on fiberglass. 98 x 138 cm.

What role does experimentation play in your creative process?

Experimentation plays a central role. Initially, I wasn’t aware of its importance in my process—it just happened naturally. I would follow a narrative thread, and experimentation was my organic way of reaching what I sought. Early on, I distanced myself from the stretcher frame because I found it limiting. I needed the edges of the pieces to be part of the composition, so I used traditional materials like canvas, paper, or oil paint in unconventional ways. I adapted materials to what each work required, without adhering to traditional rules.

Everything came together after a residency in Dubai. When I returned, I felt disconnected from both the work I had created there and my earlier work. It was like a beautiful suit that no longer fit. So, I consciously decided to connect the dots between the different series of works I had done. That’s when I realized the common thread was experimentation.

What I seek—and continue to seek—is the organic. I work with abstract elements, trying to explore the language of matter and elevate it to an almost ethereal plane. My goal is to separate the language of matter to reach something primordial and essential. I understood that experimentation was the foundation of my work, the medium to reach that organic essence from different angles—always through the language of matter and lightness. For me, it’s the most direct path to that essence.

Where the sky is created. 2024. Mixed media on fiberglass. 127 x 166 cm.

What are your references?

When I think about influences, I divide them into three groups:

The first includes artists and creators I consume daily through social media, cinema, or other forms of leisure. Even if they don’t directly relate to my work, they inevitably influence me in some way. The second group consists of my peers, my partner, and the people I share artistic perspectives with. Even if we work on different things, there’s a network of support and mutual inspiration. We recommend materials to each other, share ideas... It’s a more indirect influence but equally significant. Love you, friends.

Finally, there are the core influences: the artists who have marked turning points in my journey. For example, when I started painting, I was fascinated by Sorolla, especially his use of light. Although it’s not evident in my current work, that interest in light remains a crucial part of my language.

Then came Francis Bacon, with his approach to the visceral and the organic in open spaces. I was deeply affected by his ability to compose with central organic masses. Later, I discovered Berlinde De Bruyckere, whose wax sculptures replicate skins full of incredible transparencies and glazes. Her extensive material research to achieve her desired results inspired me to think, There must be a way to express myself, too. A professor once told me that the moments when you’re not painting are just as important as when you are, and he was absolutely right. At that time, Berlinde De Bruyckere inspired me to say, Maybe I shouldn’t be producing right now—just experimenting and taking it slow. Sometimes in art, you want everything now, now, now, but it’s more worthwhile—and productive—to pause and avoid obsessing over production for a while until you find that something you truly want to achieve, instead of struggling with the canvas.

Finally, Nolde was an unexpected discovery. I had never been particularly interested in watercolor or his use of color, but his expressive and free landscapes inspired me to explore color in my work. This was significant because I had always worked with muted tones, blacks, and grays. Seeing his work made me realize I could find my voice in color. Nolde opened up a new path for me, even though all the previous influences remain present in my work, albeit more subtly.

The arch it guards. 2024. Mixed media on fiberglass. 149 x 140 cm.

How do your roles as a cartoonist and painter interrelate?

Honestly, they barely intersect because they are very different languages. I can’t work on both simultaneously since they require completely different mental approaches. For instance, when I was working on my book Qué vergüenza haber nacido (What a Shame to Have Been Born), I was entirely immersed in the world of cartoons.

Cartoons emerged as a tool to organize my ideas about the world—a visual diary. They were incredibly helpful during my formative years, but I feel I don’t need them as much now. Nevertheless, they were fundamental to my development.

I’ve realized that these two parts of me—cartoonist and painter—are very distinct and well-separated. While they might seem to have nothing in common, I believe both are driven by a search for truth, by the need to dissect reality and reach what is true.

In painting, I focus on the organic and the primordial, while in cartoons, it’s a visceral sincerity. So, while they are two very different paths, they share the same destination. Right now, painting is my mother tongue, so to speak. It’s where I feel I can most purely achieve what I want. Cartoons have a more narrative component, helping to put things in order, whereas painting—perhaps because it’s more abstract—reaches corners that cartoons can’t.

Dog howling at the moon. 2024. Mixed media on fiberglass. 194 x 150cm.

What aspect defines your artistic language?

When I work, I constantly seek a balance between chaos and intention. My technique, as I’ve mentioned, revolves around pursuing a primordial organic force. An excess of intention or human intervention could kill that organic force.

It’s about finding balance: controlled chaos. For me, it’s crucial to maintain an equilibrium between the initial idea for a piece and what happens during the process. Although I don’t work with sketches, I always need a starting point: a color, a shape—something that sparks the urge to create. You begin with an idea of what you want to achieve, but it’s vital to remain open to what the work demands as it evolves.

The balance lies between what the piece asks of you and what you initially wanted. Often, your original plan won’t work 100%. That’s why you must be receptive to the piece suggesting new forms or colors. However, it’s equally important to maintain clarity to avoid being swept away by every new idea, as you’d never finish otherwise.

It’s also about balancing the pictorial and the sculptural. Although I approach my work pictorially, it’s evident that it has an installation-like quality. The pieces are translucent, viewable from both sides, and can be hung mid-room, where the surrounding air becomes significant. Each piece needs space around it to fully reveal its form.

Ultimately, I aim to observe the painting as if it were a being, almost with its own body. The uneven contours of the pieces reinforce this concept, creating a balance between painting as an entity and painting as an object.

The intentions of a flower. 2024. Mixed media on fiberglass. 173 x 117 cm.

How do transparency and light influence your works?

Light plays a crucial role in arranging the pieces, especially due to their translucency. I usually hang them in two ways: either on a wall or from the ceiling.

On the wall, the pieces are mounted with magnets to avoid puncturing them—something I find essential. Their distance from the wall significantly impacts their appearance. The closer they are, the more saturated the colors appear, emphasizing their pictorial quality. The farther they are, the more their object-like quality emerges, highlighting contours, textures, and the interplay of translucent layers with light.

Suspending them from the ceiling further desaturates the colors and gives full prominence to their object-like quality. Viewed from all angles, the works reveal their seams, collaged layers, and the delicate textures of overlapping paint.

I prefer natural light for display, as it integrates the work into the space, aligning with my goal of capturing the organic and primordial. These pieces, like fragments of the world, connect with the air and light around them, reinforcing their essence.

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