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 work of Cedric Le Corf (Bühl, Germany, 1985) is situated in a territory of friction, where the archaic impulse of the sacred coexists with a critical sensibility characteristic of contemporary times. His practice is grounded in an anthropological understanding of the origin of art as a foundational gesture: the trace, the mark, the need to inscribe life in the face of the awareness of death.

The artist establishes a complex dialogue with the Spanish Baroque tradition, not through stylistic mimicry, but through the emotional and material intensity that permeates that aesthetic. The theatricality of light, the embodiment of tragedy, and the hybridity of the spiritual and the carnal are translated in his work into a formal exploration, where underlying geometry and embedded matter generate perceptual tension.

In Le Corf’s practice, the threshold between abstraction and figuration is not an opposition but a site of displacement. Spatial construction and color function as emotional tools that destabilize the familiar. An open methodology permeates this process, in which planning coexists with a deliberate loss of control. This allows the work to emerge as a space of silence, withdrawal, and return, where the artist confronts his own interiority.

The Fall. 2025. Oil on canvas.195 × 150 cm.

In your work, a tension can be perceived between devotion and dissidence. How do you negotiate the boundary between the sacred and the profane?

In my work, I feel the need to return to rock art, to the images I carry with me. From the moment prehistoric humans became aware of death, they felt the need to leave a trace—marking a red hand on the cave wall using a stencil, a symbol of vital blood. Paleolithic man, a hunter-gatherer, experienced a mystical feeling in the presence of the animal—a form of spiritual magic and rituals linked to creation. In this way, the cave becomes sacred through the abstract representation of death and life, procreation, the Venus figures… Thus, art is born. In my interpretation, art is sacred by essence, because it reveals humankind as a creator.

Between Dog and Wolf II. 2025. Oil on canvas. 97 × 70 cm.

Traces of the Spanish Baroque tradition can be seen in your work. What do you find in it that remains contemporary today?

Yes, elements of the Spanish Baroque tradition are present in my work. In the history of art, for example, I think of Arab-Andalusian mosaics, in which I find a geometry of forms that feels profoundly contemporary. In Spanish Baroque painting and sculpture, one recurring theme is tragedy: death and the sacred are intensely embodied, whether in religious or profane subjects, in artists such as Zurbarán, Ribera, El Greco, and also Velázquez. I am thinking, for example, of the remarkable equestrian painting of Isabel of France, with its geometry and nuanced portrait that illuminates the painting.

When I think about sculpture, the marvelous polychrome sculptures of Alonso Cano, Juan de Juni, or Pedro de Mena come to mind—works in which green eyes are inlaid, along with ivory teeth, horn fingernails, and eyelashes made of hair. All of this has undoubtedly influenced my sculptural practice, both in its morphological and equestrian dimensions. Personally, in my work I inlay porcelain elements into carved or painted wood.

Between Dog and Wolf I. 2025. Oil on canvas. 97 × 70 cm.

What interests you about that threshold between the recognizable and the abstract?

For me, any representation in painting or sculpture is abstract. What imposes itself is the architectural construction of space, its secret geometry, and the emotion produced by color. It is, in a way, a displacement of the real in order to reach that sensation.

The Anatomical Angel. 2013. Ash wood and porcelain. 90 × 15 × 160 cm.

Your work seems to move between silence, abandonment, and return. What draws you toward these intermediate spaces?

I believe it is by renouncing the imitation of external truth, by refusing to copy it, that I reach truth—whether in painting or in sculpture. It is as if I were looking at myself within my own subject in order to better discover my secret, perhaps.

Justa. 2019. Polychrome oak wood. 240 × 190 × 140 cm.

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

It is true that, on occasions, I completely forget the main idea behind my painting and sculpture. Although I begin a work with very clear ideas—preliminary drawings and sketches, preparatory engravings, and a well-defined intention—I realize that, sometimes, that initial idea gets lost. It is not an accident. In some cases, it has to do with technical difficulties, but nowadays I also accept starting from a very specific idea and, when faced with sculpture, wood, or ceramics, having to work in a different way. I accept that.