Lil Blanc

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

Lil Blanc (Madrid, 1993) began by experimenting with textures, gradually evolving toward gradients and exploring the transition from one color to another. This led her to a form of abstraction that expresses intense emotions. Her artistic journey started with a focus on high-gloss finishes, but the structure of her paintings has grown increasingly significant, transforming each into a nearly sculptural piece. The gentle gradations of color in her canvases evoke sunset skies, and her intent to capture that fleeting moment stems from a personal experience watching a summer sunset. Her work is not only observed but also experienced, inviting reflection on time, transience, and space. A perfectionist by nature, she adheres to the philosophy that less is more—a legacy of her architectural background. Without artifice, she crafts stories that are not immediately evident, embedding layers of meaning within each piece.

Touch the Sky. Mixed media on canvas with a high-gloss epoxy finish. 2024. 100 x 100 cm.

What role does experimentation play in your creative process?

For me, experimentation is innate and natural. Being in constant production generates movement and a flow of ideas. I started with more organic works where textures took center stage, eventually shifting toward gradients and high-gloss finishes, each step driven by the pursuit of perfecting my technique. No two works are alike; in fact, there is always a continuous search to create something new and different.

Lil Blanc's studio by Amores.

Who are your references?

Having studied architecture instead of fine arts gives me a different set of influences, which certainly shapes my creative approach. I’ve always been inspired by Mies van der Rohe’s "less is more," the color palette of SelgasCano’s Serpentine Pavilion, and the fantastical creations of the Archigram group. Additionally, social media connects me with contemporary artists. For instance, I admire Nick Thomm’s XXL high-gloss pieces, “onekean_” for his gradients, and C. J. Hendry for her mastery of colored pencil.

Kill Bill. Mixed media on canvas with a high-gloss epoxy finish. 2024. 100 x 100 cm.

What is the most recurring internal dialogue in your creative dynamic?

I rarely listen to music while working; I prefer silence, as it helps me think. My most frequent dialogue is with the piece I’m creating—I think about how to convey its story and the words that will bridge the connection with the viewer. I also anticipate potential questions and draft responses. In fact, I invent dialogues about the piece, which influence my process; if something contradicts the message I want to convey, I revise the work itself.

Lil Blanc's studio by Amores.

How would you like your work to be perceived?

Artistically, I want my pieces to bring joy to people, to warm spaces, fill rooms with color, and leave a noticeable void in their absence. I want the gloss to reflect the happenings of a room and for the gradients to harmonize with natural light, evoking balance and serenity. On the other hand, I strive for the highest quality and perfection. From the first step to the last, I meticulously oversee every detail. I’m a perfectionist, and my goal is for the viewer to sense this simply by contemplating the work—for the piece to speak for itself.

pie de foto

What technical challenges do you currently face?

The second part of the process presents the greatest difficulties. Achieving a flawless high-gloss finish requires extreme precision, attention to every detail of the process chain, respecting timing, and turning an artistic endeavor into something almost chemical. Moreover, working with large formats up to three meters adds to the complexity. Yet, when I see the final result, it’s all worth it.

The practice of the collective DIMASLA (Diana + Álvaro) is situated at a fertile intersection between contemporary art, ecological thinking, and a philosophy of experience that shifts the emphasis from production to attention. Faced with the visual and material acceleration of the present, their work does not propose a head-on opposition, but rather a sensitive reconciliation with time, understood as lived duration rather than as a measure. The work thus emerges as an exercise in slowing down, a pedagogy of perception where contemplating and listening become modes of knowledge.

In the work of DIMASLA (Diana + Álvaro), the territory does not function as a framework but rather as an agent. The landscape actively participates in the process, establishing a dialogical relationship reminiscent of certain eco-critical currents, in which subjectivity is decentralized and recognized as part of a broader framework. This openness implies an ethic of exposure, which is defined as the act of exposing oneself to the climate, the elements, and the unpredictable, and this means accepting vulnerability as an epistemological condition.

The materials—fabrics, pigments, and footprints—serve as surfaces for temporary inscriptions and memories, bearing the marks of time. The initial planning is conceived as an open hypothesis, allowing chance and error to act as productive forces. In this way, the artistic practice of DIMASLA (Diana + Álvaro) articulates a poetics of care and being-with, where creating is, above all, a profound way of feeling and understanding nature.

In a historical moment marked by speed and the overproduction of images, your work seems to champion slowness and listening as forms of resistance. Could it be said that your practice proposes a way of relearning time through aesthetic experience?

Diana: Yes, but more than resistance or vindication, I would speak of reconciliation—of love. It may appear slow, but it is deliberation; it is reflection. Filling time with contemplation or listening is a way of feeling. Aesthetic experience leads us along a path of reflection on what lies outside us and what lies within.

The territory does not appear in your work as a backdrop or a setting, but as an interlocutor. How do you negotiate that conversation between the artist’s will and the voice of the place, when the landscape itself participates in the creative process?

Álvaro: For us, the landscape is like a life partner or a close friend, and naturally this intimate relationship extends into our practice. We go to visit it, to be with it, to co-create together. We engage in a dialogue that goes beyond aesthetics—conversations filled with action, contemplation, understanding, and respect.

Ultimately, in a way, the landscape expresses itself through the material. We respect all the questions it poses, while at the same time valuing what unsettles us, what shapes us, and what stimulates us within this relationship.

The Conquest of the Rabbits I & II. 2021. Process.

In your approach, one senses an ethic of exposure: exposing oneself to the environment, to the weather, to others, to the unpredictable. To what extent is this vulnerability also a form of knowledge?

Diana: For us, this vulnerability teaches us a great deal—above all, humility. When we are out there and feel the cold, the rain, or the sun, we become aware of how small and insignificant we are in comparison to the grandeur and power of nature.

So yes, we understand vulnerability as a profound source of knowledge—one that helps us, among many other things, to let go of our ego and to understand that we are only a small part of a far more complex web.

Sometimes mountains cry too. 2021. Limestone rockfall, sun, rain, wind, pine resin on acrylic on natural cotton canvas, exposed on a blanket of esparto grass and limestone for two months.. 195 cm x 130 cm x 3 cm.

Your works often emerge from prolonged processes of exposure to the environment. Could it be said that the material—the fabrics, the pigments, the traces of the environment—acts as a memory that time writes on you as much as you write on it?

Álvaro: This is a topic for a long conversation, sitting on a rock—it would be very stimulating. But if experiences shape people’s inner lives and define who we are in the present moment, then I would say yes, especially in that sense.

Leaving our comfort zone has led us to learn from the perseverance of plants and the geological calm of mountains. Through this process, we have reconciled ourselves with time, with the environment, with nature, with ourselves, and even with our own practice. Just as fabrics hold the memory of a place, we have relearned how to pay attention and how to understand. Ultimately, it is a way of deepening our capacity to feel.

The fox and his tricks. 2022. Detail.

To what extent do you plan your work, and how much space do you leave for the unexpected—or even for mistakes?

Diana: Our planning is limited to an initial hypothesis. We choose the materials, colours, places, and sometimes even the specific location, but we leave as much room as possible for the unexpected to occur. In the end, that is what it is really about: allowing nature to speak and life to unfold. For us, both the unexpected and mistakes are part of the world’s complexity, and within that complexity we find a form of natural beauty.