Art Madrid'26 – Art Dialogues

L: Piet Mondrian, “Tableau II”, 1921, oil on canvas | R: Yves Saint Laurent's design, 1965.

 

 

Art sometimes becomes a field without fences, full of paths, a mechanism of communicating vessels where inspiration flows in a multi directional manner. The homage, the emulation, the tribute, the reinterpretation move in that uncertain space between artistic disciplines to originate new pieces in which respect and admiration to what old masters had previously made are embodied.

 

 

 

1: Public School “La Canal”, Luanco (Spain) | 2: Mondrian Maison Hotel (France) | 3: City Hall façade in La Hague | 4: Block of buildings in Rouen (France).

 

 

Mondrian’s fame very soon went beyond the boundaries of visual arts. His simple and linear designs, which the artist only achieved after many years of work in which he developed an evolved style tending to simplicity, made the difference within Modern Art. Today, his impact is still remarkable, and his aesthetic simplicity and elegant choice of colours, have turned his work into a timeless legacy that inspires new designs. Architecture and fashion design are two of the main disciplines based on Mondrian’s paintings.

 

 

L: Jil Sander's design, 2012. R: Pablo Picasso, “Chouette Femme”, 1950, vallauris pottery.

 

 

Precisely, fashion has in several times resorted to visual arts to offer a new reading of artworks captured on fabric. Though in many cases, paintings have been taken as a reference for these designs (like Mondrian’s, that we have pointed out), here we bring the example of the pottery artwork by Picasso entitled “Chouette Femme”. The German designer Jil Sander based on this piece to the proposal that she presented on the catwalk in 2012.

 

 

L: Johannes Vermeer, “Girl with a Pearl Earring”, 1667, oil on canvas | R: A frame of the film “Girl with Pearl Earring”, 2003.

 

 

“Girl with a Pearl Earring”, by the Dutch painter Johannes Vermeer, is a famous painting finished between 1665 and 1667 now kept in the Mauritshuis Museum in The Hague. Scholars consider this piece a “tronie”, a classic painting at the epoch, mainly made with a decorative purpose with no intention of identifying the person in the portrait. This was not a problem to the American novelist Tracy Chevalier, who based her book “Girl with a Pearl Earring” on this artwork. The writer builds a story on the relationship of the painter with a servant girl, Griet, that would be his model for this portrait. Years later, this novel was adapted to the cinema with an homonymous film whose main characters were Scarlett Johansson and Colin Firth. As a detail, we must point out that Vermeer felt an authentic devotion for these pearl earrings, and we can find them as little sparkling dots in other female portraits, like “Girl with a Red Hat” or “A Lady Writing a Letter”.

 

 

L: Otto Dix, “Portrait of Sylvia von Harden”, 1926, oil on canvas | R: scene from film “Cabaret”, 1972.

 

 

Cinema does not escape from the influence of the visual arts either. In this case, we talk about the film “Cabaret” (1972), whose first scene is inspired by the oil painting by Otto Dix “Portrait of Sylvia von Harden”, of 1926. The attention devoted to this film and the numerous artistic references that it has, besides of being itself an iconic film, explain that it was awarded the Oscar of Best Photography, under the direction of Geoffrey Unsworth. The choice of this pictorial reference is not casual at all. Otto Dix was one of the main representatives of the German “New Objectivity” trend, and this piece conveys some of the aesthetic principles of the epoch, especially in what the consideration of women against the imposition of beauty stereotypes concerns, at a period, the late 20’s, when the intellectual and female liberalisation mastered. Precisely, Otto himself asked Sylvia in several times to allow him to paint her. For the artist, this journalist and poet that frequented the Romanisches Café in Berlin, place where intellectuals and artists met at the time, summarised the purest essence of his epoch. It was not a wrong choice to inspire the opening scene of the film, also set at the beginning of the next decade.

 


ART MADRID’26 INTERVIEW PROGRAM. CONVERSATIONS WITH ADONAY BERMÚDEZ


The artistic practice of Chamo San (Barcelona, 1987) revolves around a poetics of attention, in which the seemingly insignificant acquires a singular reflective intensity. His works emerge from a persistent observation of everyday life, understood not as a narrative repertoire but as a field of shared experience. Within this framework, the minimal gesture becomes a form of sensitive knowledge, placing the viewer before scenes that are both recognizable and, at the same time, estranged by their temporal suspension.

The progressive shift toward a more atmospheric painting has allowed the environment to cease functioning as a mere support and become an active agent of meaning. Restrained color ranges and carefully constructed spaces generate a sense of stillness that evokes a pictorial tradition attentive to duration and waiting. The human figure—a constant presence in his work—is presented immersed in contexts that amplify its affective and existential dimension.

The silence permeating these images is not absence but condition; it constitutes a space of resonance in which the time of doing and the time of looking converge. Situated between compositional control and openness to the contingent, Chamo San’s work affirms painting as a territory where planning and accident coexist.


Bathtub. 2018. Ballpoint pen on notebook. 14 x 18 cm.


Many of your works show meticulous attention to the smallest gestures and seemingly trivial moments. What interests you about these micro-choreographies of everyday life?

The seed of my work always comes from the sketches I make from life in small notebooks that I can carry with me at all times. Later, I either transfer them to another format so I can work on them more calmly, or they become the final piece in themselves.

Composition, staging, and perhaps those micro-choreographies are what I allow myself to bring to the scene as an artist. For me, these everyday moments are the most direct and honest way to connect with the audience because—even though they are intimate—they reflect universal experiences.


Feet. 2023. Oil pastel on paper mounted on board. 30 x 30 cm.


In your pieces, the presence of sober tones seems to generate a particular type of atmosphere. How would you describe the way that atmosphere emerges during your work, and what role does it play in the overall construction of the image?

Atmosphere and colour are relatively recent additions to my work. Previously, I focused exclusively on the figures as the central element, and they were often left floating in a kind of void. It was when I realised the need to provide context—especially as I began working more closely from the notes in my notebooks—that I came to understand the importance of the environment for the character.

The human figure will always remain the main element for me, as it is through its representation that I find the greatest enjoyment. However, little by little, I have become interested in exploring what surrounds it. I see the creation of an environment and an atmosphere as essential in order to situate the figures within a more complete and fully constructed scene.


Mamant. 2025. Colored pencils on notebook. 14 x 18 cm.


Are the silences in your works inherited from real experiences, or do they emerge during the painting process?

The silences in my work are inherited from real experiences. When I capture those small moments of everyday life—which is essential for me—I tend to be focused and quiet. At the same time, I also believe that the contemplation of artworks naturally invites this kind of calm. In that sense, for a brief moment, both the artist—throughout the entire creative process—and the viewer, when engaging with the work, can meet in the same state of tranquillity and silence.


The Kiss. 2024. Oil pastel on notebook. 14 x 18 cm.


To what extent do you plan your works and how much space do you leave for the unexpected to happen?

Some of my works are very planned, even excessively so, with lots of sketches. On the other hand, I always have that starting point that appears in my notebooks, and I leave experimentation and the unexpected for the end. Although it's also true that when I've thrown myself into improvisation from the beginning, wonderful things have happened, so now I try to combine those two worlds as organically as possible.


Cinema. 2025. Ballpoint pen and oil pastel on notebook. 14 x 18 cm.


Although your work has shifted towards the pictorial—with an aesthetic closely linked to cinema—echoes of illustration can still be seen in your visual language. Which elements would you say remain, and which have undergone a radical transformation?

For me, illustration has been an intense learning process. I deeply admire artists who have combined commissioned illustration with studio work for galleries, such as Ramón Casas and James Jean. I believe these two worlds can connect on a technical level, but their language and purpose are fundamentally different.

The existence of a unique, original work allows for accidents to occur—things that are very unlikely to happen in illustration. It is this condition of uniqueness, and above all the intention behind it, that makes the two practices radically different.