The contemporary art scene in Madrid, like the city itself, never stops evolving. Art Madrid, now in its twentieth edition, taking place from March 5 to 9 at the Glass Gallery of the Palacio de Cibeles, not only showcases the latest artistic trends but also invites us to question how we inhabit the world.

Miska-Mohmmed. Suburbs. 2022. Courtesy of OOA Gallery.

After a year of dedicated work organizing this new edition, we find ourselves at the peak of the process: the fair is about to begin. Having overcome the most challenging stages, we are fully aware of our mission—to be the platform that connects a vast diversity of artists with the public. We want their voices to reach you, whether through our communication efforts or your visit to the fair. This year, Art Madrid brings together nearly two hundred artists from twenty-seven countries, represented by thirty-four galleries from ten nations. From Taiwan to Mexico; from Cuba to Portugal; from Italy to Brazil; from Japan to Spain—tracing a route through the Dominican Republic, Peru, Germany, South Africa, France, the United Kingdom, Colombia, Uruguay, Venezuela, Belgium, Poland, the Congo, the Netherlands, Morocco, Argentina, Slovakia, Sudan, Austria, and Serbia. The wealth and diversity we are exposed to over these five days indicate that today's maps are shifting—or changing color, as the troubadour sings in that song. We are no longer talking only about physical borders; today's maps are fluid and transitory. They represent our identity, our memory, and our human connections.

Ruddy Taveras. The Key to the treasure. 2024. Courtesy of Galería Luisa Pita.

The artists at Art Madrid, through works ranging from painting to installation, invite us to explore this uncertainty, to question ourselves, and, above all, to discover new possibilities.

Historically, maps have been tools for understanding space and locating ourselves in the world. However, today more than ever, those maps, like the territories they represent, are open to question—they have mutated, digitized, and fragmented. And as this happens, art continues to be the medium through which, paradoxically, we can find points of reference, direction, and meaning. Art Madrid, like other major events that reflect the pulse of contemporary art, is not immune to this reconfiguration.

Khalid El Bekay. Africa. Diptych. 2024. Courtesy of Galería Espiral.

In a sector that sometimes falls into inertia, we ask ourselves how to bring together so many perspectives, styles, and discourses in the same space for five days. That question leads us to a broader reflection on the geographical and ideological boundaries we inhabit today.

The thirty-four participating galleries introduce us to a universe of creators who, though diverse in technique and approach, share a common concern: the need to reinterpret the world from new perspectives. What once seemed immutable is now in constant flux. Globalization, technology, politics, and the climate crisis have altered the maps that once guided us. But in every change, there is an opportunity—a territory for creation. And that is where art comes in: as a vehicle for imagining new cartographies.

Maps, like identities, are constructions in constant evolution. Instead of marking borders, art today invites us to erase them. With more than thirty international galleries in attendance, Art Madrid reinforces its global character and its ability to transcend geography. Here, artists do not work on pre-existing maps; they reinvent them with each creation.

Francesca Poza. Emotions. 2024. Courtesy of Galería Alba Cabrera.

The works presented at the fair are not confined to a single medium. Through painting, sculpture, installation, and new technologies, artists explore how we position ourselves in a world where traditional structures are increasingly fluid. They do not seek easy answers but pose essential questions: What does it mean to belong to a territory today? How do globalization, the climate crisis, and the digital era affect us?

Art Madrid becomes a space where creators engage with the major questions of our time—from the geopolitical to the emotional. Their works are not just meant to be contemplated; they provoke, shake, and transform.

Okuda San Miguel. Born to Be an Angel. 2023. Courtesy of 3 Punts Galería.

The borders of art, like those of maps, are no longer fixed. That is the challenge the fair presents this year: to question them, expand them, and redefine the role of art in a constantly changing world.

In this reconfiguration, Art Madrid positions itself as a space where the voices of contemporary art help us redraw the map of humanity, both in its physical and emotional dimensions. Because today, true borders are not just geographical—they are also cultural, digital, and symbolic. And being an open window to that experimental exercise that is making art, is precisely the space where those borders can be subverted and even crossed.

The painting of Daniel Bum (Villena, Alicante, 1994) takes shape as a space for subjective elaboration, where the figure emerges not so much as a representational motif but as a vital necessity. The repetition of this frontal, silent character responds to an intimate process: painting becomes a strategy for navigating difficult emotional experiences—an insistent gesture that accompanies and alleviates feelings of loneliness. In this sense, the figure acts as a mediator between the artist and a complex emotional state, linking the practice of painting to a reconnection with childhood and to a vulnerable dimension of the self.

The strong autobiographical dimension of his work coexists with a formal distance that is not the result of conscious planning, but rather functions as a protective mechanism. Visual restraint, an apparent compositional coolness, and an economy of means do not neutralize emotion; instead, they contain it, avoiding the direct exposure of the traumatic. In this way, the tension between affect and restraint becomes a structural feature of his artistic language. Likewise, the naïve and the disturbing coexist in his painting as inseparable poles, reflecting a subjectivity permeated by mystery and unconscious processes. Many images emerge without a clearly defined prior meaning and only reveal themselves over time, when temporal distance allows for the recognition of the emotional states from which they arose.

The Long Night. Oil, acrylic, and charcoal on canvas. 160 × 200 cm. 2024.

The human figure appears frequently in your work: frontal, silent, suspended. What interests you about this presence that seems both affirmative and absent?

I wouldn’t say that anything in particular interests me. I began painting this figure because there were emotions I couldn’t understand and a feeling that was very difficult for me to process. This character emerged during a very complicated moment in my life, and the act of making it—and remaking it, repeating it again and again—meant that, during the process, I didn’t feel quite so alone. At the same time, it kept me fresh and connected me to an inner child who was broken at that moment, helping me get through the experience in a slightly less bitter way.

Santito. Acrylic and oil on canvas. 81 × 65 cm. 2025.

There is a strong affective dimension in your work, but also a calculated distance, a kind of formal coldness. What role does this tension between emotion and restraint play?

I couldn’t say exactly what role that tension plays. My painting is rooted in the autobiographical, in memory, and in situations I have lived through that were quite traumatic for me. Perhaps, as a protective mechanism—to prevent direct access to that vulnerability, or to keep it from becoming harmful—that distance appears unconsciously. It is not something planned or controlled; it simply emerges and remains there.

Night Painter. Acrylic on canvas. 35 × 27 cm. 2025.

Your visual language oscillates between the naïve and the unsettling, the familiar and the strange. How do these tensions coexist for you, and what function do they serve in your visual exploration?

I think it reflects who I am. One could not exist without the other. The naïve could not exist without the unsettling; for me, they necessarily go hand in hand. I am deeply drawn to mystery and to the act of painting things that even I do not fully understand. Many of the expressions or portraits I create emerge from the unconscious; they are not planned. It is only afterwards that I begin to understand them—and almost never immediately. A considerable amount of time always passes before I can recognize how I was feeling at the moment I made them.

Qi. Acrylic on canvas. 81 × 65 cm. 2025.

The formal simplicity of your images does not seem to be a matter of economy, but of concentration. What kind of aesthetic truth do you believe painting can reach when it strips itself of everything superfluous?

I couldn’t say what aesthetic truth lies behind that simplicity. What I do know is that it is something I need in order to feel calm. I feel overwhelmed when there are too many elements in a painting, and I have always been drawn to the minimal—to moments when there is little, when there is almost nothing. I believe that this stripping away allows me to approach painting from a different state: more focused, more silent. I can’t fully explain it, but it is there that I feel able to work with greater clarity.

Crucifixion. Acrylic on canvas. 41 × 33 cm. 2025.

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

I usually feel more comfortable leaving space for the unexpected. I am interested in uncertainty; having everything under control strikes me as rather boring. I have tried it on some occasions, especially when I set out to work on a highly planned series, with fixed sketches that I then wanted to translate into painting, but it was not something I identified with. I felt that a fundamental part of the process disappeared: play—that space in which painting can surprise even myself. For that reason, I do not tend to plan too much, and when I do, it is in a very simple way: a few lines, a plane of color. I prefer everything to happen within the painting itself.