Vasarely stated in 1955 in his famous Yellow Manifesto: "the art of tomorrow will be a collective treasure or it will not be art at all". Perhaps, at that time, the artists attached to the Op Art and Kinetic Art movements were not aware of the impact their works would have on the future of later art, but today there is no doubt that the concern and research surrounding the movement have left their mark.

Karl Gerstner

Op Art was officially inaugurated with the exhibition "The responsive eye" that MoMA organised in 1965. In fact, it was about labelling an artistic trend that had sprung up a few years ago and one of which main milestones was the collective exhibition organised by the gallery Denise René under the title "Le mouvement". At that time, the works of Duchamp, Calder, Vasarely, Jesús Rafael Soto, Robert Jacobsen... lived together in an enriching dialogue that gave birth to a new style defined within geometric abstraction: the Kinetic Art.

Carlos Cruz-Diez

Halfway between research and artistic production, the obsession of many of these creators was focused on, not capturing the movement, but incorporating it into their pieces, in a literal and physical way. From Calder's famous mobile-sculptures to multi-perspective works that force visitors to move around to find the exact point of view. Whether incorporated or projected, movement was the essence of this trend of art, where we cannot forget that the line of creative development was strongly linked to the recent sociological and psychological theories about the changing context of the 20th century and that it has its own background in the art world such as Futurism or Suprematism.

Francisco Sobrino. Sin título, 1989

Op Art delves into another kind of movement, the one generated by the viewer's own perception through a game of optics or repetition patterns. Geometry and colour are fundamental in these works, where a simple contrast effect can produce a sense of depth or superposition of planes with a volume. Symmetries, asymmetries, minimalism, pure forms ... ingredients of a composition designed to deceive and confuse the senses of the observer.

Yaacov Agam

The Würth Museum collects a total of 76 works (31 from its own collection) of the leading authors of these trends with pieces from 1921 to 2013. The colour, shape, light and perspective join around a paradigmatic collection of changes that the 20th century introduced in the art world. This exhibition opens the calendar of activities scheduled to celebrate the 10th anniversary of the opening of the Würth museum.

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.