Halloween has become fashionable nowadays because it adds a bit of humour and mystery to a traditionally solemn and serious celebration in which we face a mandatory appointment with death. Despite the imported traditions, the emptying of pumpkins and the famous phrase "trick or treat" (which was never said in our country ever), the truth is that there is a certain homogeneity in the fact that we get ready for an encounter with the after-death world. From this core idea, derive the others that play with the fear of the unknown, the fear of death, the connection with the underworld, etc., proposing a more open and humorous approach. And we, in our particular Halloween, make a reminder of some works that treat fear and terror in a masterly way.

Edvard Munch, "The scream", 1893

This well-known Munch painting is the work par excellence of the Expressionism, an artistic stream that tried to convey the sensations through the colour, without necessarily keeping coherence and verisimilitude. This artist, known for his tormented and dejected character, was one of the greatest representatives of this movement. The most famous version of this work is in Oslo, in the National Gallery of Norway, where it was stolen several times, the last in 2004, until in 2006 the piece could be recovered.

Goya, "Saturn devouring his son", (1819-1823)

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One of the most tormented paintings known is "Saturn devouring his son", by Goya. This work is framed within his famous period of Black Paintings, all dry oils, painted on the wall, in which the artist deals with dark themes related to tragedy and depression. This period coincides with a serious illness of the painter, who channelled his displeasure and disappointment through his work. Saturn represents the Titan Chronos, the god of time, who devours everything in its path. It is a crude and raw work that does not hide its violence, and that Goya had in his house of the Quinta del Sordo.

Salvador Dalí, "The face of war", 1940

"The face of war" painted by Dalí between the end of the Civil War and the beginning of World War II represents the horror of tragedy, the empty sockets, which enclose other faces multiplied in an infinite approximation, to manifest the desolation and impotence. It is said that another motivation of the author for this painting was the execution of Federico García Lorca, with whom Dalí had an intimate relationship.

Zdzislaw Beksinski

And we must highlight the work of Zdzislaw Beksinski. The life of this Polish artist was also testimony to a great life tragedy. He himself was found dead of 17 stabs in his home in 2005. This multidisciplinary author is considered one of the maximum representatives of contemporary surrealism, and his works do not leave indifferent. The presence of death, the connections with the underworld, the horror of sinister images with beings devoured by apocalyptic entities are their most recurrent motives. Beksinski said that he painted what was in his dreams, but he was very jealous of what he communicated, because he destroyed several of his works because he said they were too personal for the world to know them.

Aurelio San Pedro

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

Aurelio San Pedro (Barcelona, 1983) draws with great delicacy, focusing his attention on natural settings and favoring black and white. Memory plays a crucial role in his creative process, which is based on treating recollection as a means of artistic expression. His background in engineering and topography influences his search for inspiring images, helping him select the ideal landscapes—ones that stem from both real and imagined places.

Each of his pieces follows a slow and meticulous process, requiring deep introspection. Paper is almost a fetish for him; both the areas he chooses to intervene in and those he leaves blank hold equal importance. He navigates between abstraction and figuration while maintaining a distinctive and deeply resonant style.

Return to Oneself. From the series Books and Landscapes. 2024. Mixed media. 100 x 100 cm.

What role does experimentation play in your creative process?

Experimentation is fundamental in my creative process, both conceptually and aesthetically. My work evolves in parallel with unfolding events, gradually shaping what will become the final piece. However, in terms of production, the role of experimentation depends heavily on the series I am working on at the time.

For example, in the Books series, which is created using book fragments, three-dimensionality is essential. While working on it, I encountered trial and error, residue, simplification, and the streamlining of processes.

In contrast, when it comes to drawings, physical experimentation is much less pronounced. However, there are still discoveries, searches for tools, trials, and shifts within the working process. For instance, in Landscapes, I use a pencil with three extenders that measures about fifty to sixty centimeters. In my two latest series, Iceland and Nature, I had to learn how to move and position myself within nature, while also refining my drawing technique significantly.

Always Stumbled Upon the Same Stone.Detail. From the series Books and Landscapes. 2024. Mixed media. 10 x 19 cm.

What are your references?

I cannot pinpoint specific aesthetic influences, but I can mention those who have left a mark on my artistic journey. First and foremost, my father, due to his connection with art and architecture. I also had the privilege of learning for a year in the studio of Antoni Marqués, a renowned Catalan artist.

Historically, the works of Magritte and Joseph Kosuth have had a profound influence on me. Formally, I find a certain connection with Arte Povera, and I identify with minimalism.

Twenty Dark Episodes. 2024. From the series Books and Landscapes. Mixed media. 100 x 100 cm.

How do memory and recollection influence your drawings?

Much of my work, if not all, is rooted in memory. I began with the Diane series, a collection of pencil drawings based on old photographs by Diane Arbus. In these drawings, I removed the main subjects, leaving only the backgrounds. They were complemented by diptychs that included descriptions of the absent characters, the location where the photograph was taken, and the year. This approach created a dialogue between presence and absence, exploring themes of memory and recollection.

Later, I worked on Landscapes, a much more ethereal series in which I sought to represent an idealized and undefined image through personal memory. Currently, I am developing Nature and Iceland, projects that reflect on natural memory in relation to the landscape’s own form.

I am interested in posing questions such as: How did this rock end up here? How was this meandering river formed? A simple landscape holds countless traces and processes. For me, that is the essence of memory in my work.

ST.3. From the series Iceland. 2024. Pencil on paper. 120 x 100 cm.

How long does it take you to complete your works?

The time I dedicate to each piece depends mainly on its complexity and specific characteristics. Generally, I spend between two and four weeks on each piece, with an average of about three weeks. This varies, as some works require more time for reflection, adjustments, or details, while others emerge more fluidly. The diversity of the creative process is what makes the difference, each piece has its own demands and rhythms, making every artistic experience unique.

Return to Oneself. From the series Books and Landscapes. 2024. Mixed media. 100 x 100 cm.

Why do you choose to work in black and white?

I am deeply drawn to black and white for its timelessness. This visual approach not only eliminates distractions but also removes certain details that might diminish the work’s mystery, allowing the viewer to focus on the essential. The absence of color and the diffuse light I use contribute to a sense of distortion and vagueness, which, to me, enhances the enigmatic nature of the image.

By omitting volume and color, I create an atmosphere that invites interpretation, leaving room for the viewer to project their own narrative onto what they see. This quality of uncertainty and suggestion is what I find so powerful about working in black and white.

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