One of the design works that most impact and that usually falls into oblivion is the advertising posters. Metres and metres of billboards, bulletin boards, canopies, banderoles... covered with numerous layers of glued paper. Although the nostalgic people always want to keep the concert that made history or the movie that marked his childhood.

A group of entrepreneurs Bilbao has launched an app that develops a cultural agenda based on the posters designed to announce each of the activities: Postwall. This initiative has already exceeded 5,000 downloads in its five months of life. With these figures, it is evident that the communicative power of the poster resides in its visual impact and that the public is still sensitive to the quality of good design, something increasingly demanding and complicated in an environment of permanent competition in digital communication.

Beyond the fetishists and collectors who paper the walls of their rooms with posters of their small vital "milestones" (where there is no movie poster - especially Star Wars or similar - or a musical star - from Michael Jackson to Beyoncée-?), it is good to keep in mind that behind all good posters there are many hours of work. It is about harmonizing the information with an image that impacts, and a lot of design work in which the main artistic trends of the moment concentrate.

In fact, a poster can be used for much more than to announce an activity. It can create a tendency, influence the style of an era, become a reference of art for posterity. This has happened with communist aesthetics during the Cold War, with a propaganda poster that today is updated in the hands of authors such as Shepard Fairey, apart from other paradigmatic examples such as Mucha and his compositions Art Deco (sometimes it is difficult to know what was before , the poster or the style itself), or the total fusion of trends by Víctor Moscoso, a Galician poster designer based in California who set a trend in the 60s to generate an unmistakable style.

As Patrick San Juan, one of the founders of Postwall, explains, a good poster anticipates the experience of the event it announces. However, the graphic designer, the true alma mater of these works, goes completely unnoticed and remains forgotten to the value chain associated with the event at stake. This idea, added to the need to collect in one place all the cultural offer of the city, motivated the creation of this app that so far, without reaching the half year of life, already works in all Basque Country, Barcelona and Madrid and continues to expand to Seville and Valencia.

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.