Art Madrid'26 – RICHARD GARCÍA: THE IMAGINED REALITIES

Richard García. Courtesy of the artist.

ARTE & PALABRA. CONVERSATIONS WITH CARLOS DEL AMOR

In Richard García's work there is something that captures the viewer's gaze. Whether it's the colour, the recognisable but undefined landscape, or the real but seemingly imaginary creatures that inhabit that landscape, I can't say. There are many layers to lose oneself in in each of his works, and in each one there is something underlying the previous one, as if it had been left there for us to follow the trail of a creative process in which meticulous study and chance seem to follow parallel paths, knowing that somewhere along the way they will meet.

A brushstroke creates a new territory, perhaps covering something that has already been done, but which would otherwise have no identity of its own, and this new territory, delineated by colour, illuminates a new path, a new layer, a new perspective. Richard's street origins are evident, his works have the restless pulse of someone who is moved by the spark of an idea which will be followed by a new one, and aspiration to the end of a work that can be infinite because there are infinite details we can dwell on.

Of course, he gives importance to the dream, and in the end the dream is just that, a superimposition of real layers that in the end form an impossible world. To contradict myself, it is not an impossible world because the artist has made it visible and therefore real. Painted, but real and ready for us to pass through without knowing where it will lead us.

Reclaiming nature. Acrylic, oil, wax and spray on board. 2023.

If you had to define yourself in one sentence, which one would you use?

It is often said that to define oneself is to limit oneself, so I don't like to do it. But if I had to, I would describe myself as a passionate, disciplined and dedicated person, and above all a perfectionist.

What is left of the boy who began painting on the walls of the streets?

Everything about graffiti remains, except the anonymity. At high school I made some friends who were involved in the world of graffiti and they shared their experiences and adrenaline filled anecdotes with me, and all of this gave me the desire to try street painting. It came very naturally, the learning process was self-taught, from other colleagues, from urban artists that I had as references. I didn't even have established artists in the history of art as references. It was a beginning that had a profound effect on my development, because it was thanks to them that I decided to study Fine Arts and train as an artist.

In terms of the way I work or paint, I still use the sprays, strokes and gestures typical of graffiti, except that they have been transferred to other supports, such as a wooden board, a canvas or many others. But it is true that in my work I continue to make references to elements that I find in the street and that refer to graffiti, such as writers' signatures, stickers or registers typical of urban art. Let's say it was something I identified with in my early days and that is still present in my work today.

Blue summer. Acrylic, oil, wax and spray on board. 2023.

Whenever you talk about your work, the word dream appears. In your paintings all the elements are recognizable but they form an unreal reality. How do you capture, paint a dream?

Actually my creative process is very intuitive, unconscious. I don't really know where it will take me. It is precisely this element of surprise, of the unexpected, of what emerges, that makes my work special, or what I consider to be special, and what emerges from it. In a way, I start from the reality in which I move and I collect moments through photography to later generate a new image through a strategy of digital sketches, where I give myself the freedom to transform it based on my imagination, my desires and my dreams. After all, who doesn't dream, wish, fantasize? It's not so much what I paint as how the viewer wants to interpret my work.

In dreams, everything is superimposed, the images run over each other, and this can be seen in your paintings. It's as if one layer isn't enough, you need several superimposed layers to get to the bottom of what you want to say. When you paint the first one, do you know where you will end up?

It is true that my painting has a transformative power of accumulation of layers as well as thoughts. It all begins as a constant dance between the controlled and the uncontrolled. Through the plastic possibilities offered by the materials I work with, I leave a lot of room from the beginning for chance and coincidence to generate a thousand stimuli which, through the superimposition of layers, will gradually mutate from the more abstract language of painting to a more figurative or recognisable language. I see it as a constant dialogue between what painting offers you in an almost magical way as a discovery and the choices you make in the process to arrive at the final work. That's why there's something magical about painting that takes you to places you never expected.

It is best to wake up without an alarm. Acrylic, oil, wax and spray on board. 2023.

Maybe it's just intuition, but your work reminded me of Richard Estes' paintings, probably because of the use of reflections. Here's a question in the form of a play on words: How difficult is it to reflect a reflection in a work of art? And in that reflection we can be ourselves or a reality that would not exist if it were not reflected.

Yes, it is true that we both use the concept of reflection in our work, but I think in very different ways. In the case of Richard Estes, I think he uses photography to approach reflection in a more faithful, objective or literal way. It is this aesthetic of photorealism, of hyperrealism, that interests him. In his painting, each part of the image is focused on equally or with equal importance. In my case, I am interested in the sensations created by the reflection itself. When I observe how light hits a glass, a distorted reality is created, where the different spaces overlap, creating a fantasy world that can be imagined. Similarly, where figuration and abstraction are in constant dialogue, something similar happens in my painting.

I'm also very interested in the very plasticity of painting, the way it is done. How each part of the painting is resolved and how the different languages that emerge in the process itself coexist. There is something that is important to me, and that is the reading that the painting itself has, from the first layers and how they emerge in a more intuitive way, or where the accident has a great weight, to the last layers that are more gestural or more closed with more matter, more figuration. But in reality it's not so much whether it's easy or difficult, it's more the process itself and everything that happens during it that leads me to an unreal reality, to create an optical illusion.

Green was the silence. Acrylic, oil, wax and spray on board. 2023.

Your work takes me to the urban, and yet there are "green" elements, nature, in all of them. The city is becoming more gray and less green, is this an attempt to immortalize spaces that are on the verge of extinction?

I was born in a city where everything has grown and changed, just as I have, and this has influenced my identity or who I am today. In this process of walking in search of stimuli to bring to painting, reflections, experiences, concerns arise that will inevitably be reflected in my work as an extension of myself. It is in this process of walking that I realize how modern life has increasingly distanced nature from our lives. Therefore I create contemporary scenarios in which wild animals - outside their natural habitat - appear to make us reflect on the importance of our origin: nature.

Where do you think your painting is going?

I really don't know. I don't want to think about it directly. Where the painting and the process itself wants to take me. It's the surprise factor and all the magic that painting has, that you can't control, that feeds me so much and I hope to evolve and continue to do it with the same joy, passion and enthusiasm.





Daniel Barrio. Guest artist of the third edition of OPEN BOOTH. Courtesy of the artist.


DESPIECE. PROTOCOLO DE MUTACIÓN


As part of the Art Madrid’26 Parallel Program, we present the third edition of Open Booth, a space conceived as a platform for artistic creation and contemporary experimentation. The initiative focuses on artists who do not yet have representation within the gallery circuit, offering a high-visibility professional context in which new voices can develop their practice, explore forms of engagement with audiences, and consolidate their presence within the current art scene. On this occasion, the project features artist Daniel Barrio (Cuba, 1988), who presents the site-specific work Despiece. Protocolo de mutación.

Daniel Barrio’s practice focuses on painting as a space for experimentation, from which he explores the commodification of social life and the tyranny of media approval. He works with images drawn from the press and other media, intervening in them pictorially to disrupt their original meaning. Through this process, the artist opens up new readings and questions how meaning is produced, approaching painting as a space of realization, therapy, and catharsis.

Despiece. Protocolo de mutación is built from urban remnants, industrial materials, and fragments of history, inviting us to reflect on which memories we inherit, which we consume, and which ones we are capable of creating. Floors, walls, and volumes come together to form a landscape under tension, where the sacred coexists with the everyday, and where cracks matter more than perfection.

The constant evolution of art calls for ongoing exchange between artists, institutions, and audiences. In its 21st edition, Art Madrid reaffirms its commitment to acting as a catalyst for this dialogue, expanding the traditional boundaries of the art fair context and opening up new possibilities of visibility for emerging practices.



Despiece. Protocolo de mutación emerges from a critical and affective impulse to dismantle, examine, and reassemble what shapes us culturally and personally. The work is conceived as an inseparable whole: an inner landscape that operates as a device of suspicion, where floors, walls, and volumes configure an ecosystem of remnants. It proposes a reading of history not as a linear continuity, but as a system of forces in permanent friction, articulating space as an altered archive—a surface that presents itself as definitive while remaining in constant transformation.



The work takes shape as a landscape constructed from urban waste, where floors, walls, and objects form a unified body made of lime mortar, PVC from theatrical signage, industrial foam, and offering wax. At the core of the project is an L-shaped structure measuring 5 × 3 meters, which reinterprets the fresco technique on reclaimed industrial supports. The mortar is applied wet over continuous working days, without a pursuit of perfection, allowing the material to reveal its own character. Orbiting this structure are architectural fragments: foam blocks that simulate concrete, a 3D-printed and distorted Belvedere torso, and a wax sculptural element embedded with sandpaper used by anonymous workers and artists, preserving the labor of those other bodies.

A white wax sculptural element functions within the installation as a point of sensory concentration that challenges the gaze. Inside it converge the accumulated faith of offering candles and the industrial residues of the studio, recalling that purity and devotion coexist with the materiality of everyday life. The viewer’s experience thus moves beyond the visual: bending down, smelling, and approaching its vulnerability transforms perception into an intimate, embodied act. Embedded within its density are sanding blocks used by artists, artisans, and laborers, recovered from other contexts, where the sandpaper operates as a trace of the effort of other bodies, following a protocol of registration with no autobiographical intent.

Despiece. Protocolo de mutación addresses us directly, asking: which memory do we value—the one we consume, or the one we construct with rigor? The audience leaves behind a purely contemplative position to become part of the system, as the effort of moving matter, documentary rigor, and immersive materiality form a body of resistance against a mediated reality. The project thus takes shape as an inner landscape, where floor, surface, and volume articulate an anatomy of residues. Adulteration operates as an analytical methodology applied to the layers of urban reality, intervening in history through theatrical and street advertising, architectural remnants, and administrative protocols, proposing that art can restore the capacity to build one’s own memory, even if inevitably fragmented.



ABOUT THE ARTIST

DANIEL BARRIO (1988, Cuba)

Daniel Barrio (Cienfuegos, Cuba, 1988) is a visual artist whose practice articulates space through painting, understanding the environment as an altered archive open to critical intervention. He studied at the Academy of Fine Arts of Cienfuegos (2004–2008), specializing in painting, and later at the Madrid Film School (ECAM, 2012–2015), where he studied Art Direction. His methodology integrates visual thinking with scenographic narrative.

His trajectory includes solo exhibitions such as La levedad en lo cotidiano (Galería María Porto, Madrid, 2023), Interiores ajenos (PlusArtis, Madrid, 2022), and Tribud (Navel Art, Madrid, 2019), as well as significant group exhibitions including Space is the Landscape (Estudio Show, Madrid, 2024), Winterlinch (Espacio Valverde Gallery, Madrid, 2024), Hiberia (Galería María Porto, Lisbon, 2023), and the traveling exhibition of the La Rioja Young Art Exhibition (2022).

A member of the Resiliencia Collective, his work does not pursue the production of objects but rather the articulation of pictorial devices that generate protocols of resistance against the flow of disposable images. In a context saturated with immediate data, his practice produces traces and archives what must endure, questioning not the meaning of the work itself but the memory the viewer constructs through interaction—thus reclaiming sovereignty over the gaze and inhabiting ruins as a method for understanding the present.